


Harmony

by Lemurkat



Series: The Valley & The Void [2]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: 1980s, Adoption, F/M, Fertility Issues, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Infidelity, Miscarriage, Role-Playing Game, Slow Burn, being a teenager is pretty tough, coming of age story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2020-07-09 22:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 47
Words: 103,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19895524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemurkat/pseuds/Lemurkat
Summary: Harmony Andrews knows what it's like to feel unwanted. She's 14-years old, and no longer a cute accessory for her celebrity parents, so they ship her off to stay with her grandparents on the ranch. But how well will a city kid adapt to living in the countryside? And how will someone socially awkward learn to make new friends?The backstory of our beloved (well, I love her) Marnie.Spanning four decades (1987-2019), "Harmony" ties in with "Broken" (set in 2019). I suggest you read "Broken" first as events and relationships eluded to there will be detailed in here (and reading "Harmony" first will spoiler "Broken").





	1. 1987

**Author's Note:**

> "Harmony" contains some fairly dark themes, including (but not limited to) self harm, natural disasters, death (including miscarriages), infertility, awkward teenage sex, sex with dubious consent, and 'coming of age' themes, plus suicide, depression, anxiety and... well... you get the idea. 
> 
> But things don't start getting dark until 1988 - the first bit is fun! (well, mostly).
> 
> [And if you literally only want to read the chapter/s where she confronts Lewis, come back in a few months when I've got the whole thing uploaded and I'll tell you what chapter it is. Because, seriously, this beast is over 100k words long.]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harmony Andrews is dumped off in Pelican Town, a small - failing - mining town, to stay with her grandparents for summer vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Harmony" is an extremely slow-burn romance, intended to span four decades (1986-2019). It begins approximately 30 years before the events of "Broken" (and therefore, the actual game), in a Pelican Town that is rather more bustling and affluent than the one we are familiar with. The mines are still actively in operation, and the "parent" characters are teenagers. For some of the characters, it may feel like I've made them younger in this story than they feel in the game. This is me taking artistic license.
> 
> This is (at least at first) a story about making your own identity and finding your place in the world

Harmony Andrews knew what it felt to be unwanted.

She jumped from the bus, battered My Little Pony rucksack clutched to her chest, and felt the mud squelch and suck at her neon yellow shoes. 

Small, skinny, fourteen-years old, and a burden – something to be shunted off to the country when she became an inconvenience. She cast her gaze around the bus stop, alighting on a faded, battered sign that announcing: “Welcome to Pelican Town”. No grandparents waiting for her. No surprises there – it would have been a surprise if Melody and Eric Andrews had actually remembered to alert her grandparents to her pending arrival.

“Excuse me,” a stern, scolding voice, as a well-dressed young man wearing a flat-cap dismounted the bus and pushed past her. His harsh gaze softened as they took in her tangled brown mane of hair, her faded pink sweatshirt, and overall scruffiness. “Can I help you?” he asked, rather more kindly. “Are you here to visit someone?”

She blushed a little, embarrassed at the attention. “My grandparents,” she said. “They run Cinder’s Ranch.” 

He studied her, his dark eyes penetrating, appraising. “Ah. You must be Harmony.”

“Yes.” She traced shapes in the mud with her toe, peered at him shyly from under her fringe. “How do you know my name?”

He offered her his hand. She took it, rather tentatively, and flinched a little at his firm handshake. “Lewis," he said. “Lewis Barclay. And how do I know your name? Well, let’s just say, I know your grandparents.” He shot her a crooked smile. “I’m the local gopher.”

“Gopher?” Harmony frowned at him, couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of him as a large, plump rodent. 

He doffed his cap and gave a small bow. “Gopher – I go-for this, go-for that. Well, you’re in luck – cos I’ve just been to Grampleton to pick up some loot, and I’m headed that way myself.”

“Are you sure?” He looked far too tidily dressed to be slogging through paddocks. But, Harmony realized, she had no idea how to get to the Ranch. Her parents had given her a handful of money, and shoved her onto the bus, with very little in the way of instruction. “Surely you have somewhere more important to be?” Something more important to do than help her.

He nodded. “Absolutely positive.”

With a grinding of gears, and a heavy sigh, the bus drew away from the verge, sending a fine spray of mud in its wake.

“Okay,” she replied. “That’d be rad. Thanks.”

He glanced around. “You got a suitcase?”

“Nope,” she replied, patting her backpack. “Just this.”

He looked at it, shook his head, and hefted his own – rather larger – gym bag over his shoulder. “Well, come on, let’s go.”

They followed a wide cobblestone path away from the bus-stop.

“It’d be quicker if we could cut through Darkhaven,” Lewis commented. “But Mister Alexander fled town in the 70s, and Jenkins is a shoot-first-ask-questions-later kinda fellow.” “Darkhaven? Creepy-as name,” Harmony replied.

“Creepy-as farm,” Lewis replied. “I’d stay away from it, if I were you. Rumor has it, that there’s monsters – and worse – lurking in those fields.” He stopped, studying her. “Do you believe in monsters, Harmony?”

Harmony frowned at him. “You mean, like gremlins?” 

“No idea,” Lewis replied. “Probably. Anyway, welcome to the thriving metropolis that is Pelican Town.”

The trees that lined the path parted, revealing an array of quaint, brightly painted shops, clustered together around a large square. In the center of the square, a bustling marketplace, filled with color, noise – and people; more people than Harmony had expected. 

“It’s busy,” she said.

He rose his eyebrows at her. “What were you expecting? A tiny backwaters town in the tail-end of nowhere? PT is a thriving mining town. You want gemstones? We’ve got ‘em: topaz, and amethyst and aquamarines.” He shrugged. “And more. Today’s market-day.”

“Wicked.” Harmony grinned at him. She was surrounded by a delicious aura of aromas: fresh baked bread, roasting meat, something sharp and spicy. Four boys, around her age, were gathered in a circle, kicking (and occasionally kneeing) a small cloth ball around. Nearby, a couple of girls feigned disinterest, whilst sneaking peeks at them, and giggling behind their hands.

“The local gang,” Lewis commented, with the cool, slightly disdainful tone of someone who considered himself too grown-up for that kind of carry-on.

“Who’s your friend, Lew?” asked one of the girls, jogging over. Her gaze skipped over Harmony. She was wearing a lime green sweater – which matched the green streaks in her hair – over neon pink leggings, her wrists adorned with an array of equally colorful bracelets. “What’s your name, new girl?” 

“Harmony,” she replied shyly.

“Can you sing?” 

“Not very well,” Harmony admitted. It appeared some skills were not hereditary, no matter how optimistic you were in naming your child. One of the many ways in which Harmony had disappointed her parents.

“Lame name then,” the girl replied, cracking her gum nosily. “I’m Caroline. And this,” she indicated her somewhat quieter, blonde, friend, “is Jodi.”

“Can you sing?” Harmony asked, blushing a little at her own daring.

“Yes?” Caroline replied, sounding a little hesitant and confused at the question.

“Because carol-Caroline, you know?” Harmony tried to explain. Felt her face burn further as Caroline stared at her as if she’d just said the stupidest thing in the world.

“Whatever.” Caroline popped her gum again, turned on her heel, and marched away. 

Lewis regarded them both with raised eyebrows, then gave a small shake of his head. “You wanna grab something to eat? Look around a bit? I’ve got other deliveries to make – could come back for you later.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Harmony replied. “I think… I’ve seen enough for today.” She felt a little shaken, wasn’t sure what she’d said or done. Hated feeling clever one minute, stupid the next. “Let’s just go.”

Lewis gave her a mock salute. “Your wish is my command.”

Cinder’s Ranch was a brightly colored collection of buildings, the farmhouse as its centerpiece. 

“Oooh, sheep!” Harmony exclaimed. “They’re so woolly!”

Lewis smiled at her indulgently. “Have you never seen sheep before?”

“Only in pictures. Can I pat them?” She’d grown up in the city. Had never even had a pet (unless the spider in the corner of her room counted; she’d named it Charlotte, and cried when the housekeeper had killed it).

A throaty laugh. “You’ll need to ask your grandpa that,” he replied, and rapped on the door. Called out, “Special delivery!”

Frenzied barking from within, and the door opened. Out erupted a pair of black and white dogs. They leaped around Harmony, sniffing her enthusiastically – and a little indelicately.

“Whiskey, Scotch! Git down, boys,” came a low, deep voice. With a whimpering whine, the two dogs dropped to their bellies, tails (and bottoms) wagging in barely-restrained excitement. An elderly gentleman stood in the doorway. Wild gray hair, a bristling beard, and gentle eyes, he frowned at Harmony, but it quickly transformed into a smile. “Harmony! We didna expect ye until next week.” He opened his arms and Harmony, grateful at seeing a familiar face – even though she hadn’t seen him in three years – ran into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her in a massive bear hug and lifted her from the ground. “You’re light as a feather lass, what have ye been eatin’?” He tut-tutted and set her back on the ground. “Never mind, we’ll get some flesh on them bones.”

“Mom won’t like that,” Harmony muttered. Melody Andrews was very, very strict about her weight, jumping from one fad diet to the next, and insisted on taking Harmony on the journey with her. 

“I imagine not,” he said. “But we canna have ye wasting away to a shadow, ye ken?” He patted her on the back. “Now, run on inside, and say ‘hello’ to ye grandma, she’s bin lookin’ forward to ye comin’ fer days.” 

Harmony nodded, entered the house, the two dogs bounding after her. 

Her grandmother, a tiny, plump woman, her mane of hair almost as wild as Harmony’s, stirred a pot in the kitchen, flooding the air with delicious fragrance. “Harmony.” She laid the spoon down and wrapped her arms around her grand-daughter. She smelt faintly of flowers. “We didn’t –”

“– expect me until next week,” Harmony finished. “I know.” She blinked back an unexpected tear, inspired by the warmth of her welcome, given the coldness at home. “There was a cancellation, my parents had their booking pushed forward.” And now, they were off on a tropical cruise around the Gem Isles – a ship filled with beautiful people, where someone plain and ordinary like her would never blend in. 

Her grandmother kissed her on the forehead. “Well, we are very happy to have you,” she said. “Your room’s still a wee bit untidy – I keep asking James to tidy it, but ye ken what men are like.”

Harmony didn’t, but she smiled and nodded in agreement anyway. Her grandmother turned the heat on the stove down, barked at the dogs to “git outside” and guided Harmony through the house. Harmony loved it immediately, a delightful clutter of knick-knacks, bookcases overflowing with books, a couch so cluttered with cushions and crocheted blankets, that Harmony almost missed the large ginger cat curled up among them.

“That’s Ginger Tom,” her grandmother informed her. “He doesn’t live here, but he’s fathered more kittens than we can count.” He rose his head, studied her sleepily, gave a ‘mrewp’ of approval and rested his head back on his paws. “Your bedroom’s through here. Sorry about the mess – I’ve been using it as my sewing room.”

Harmony couldn’t help but exclaim in surprise at the room. It was cluttered, yes, but it was, perhaps, the most marvelous room she had ever seen. The bed adorned with a colorful duvet, another cat – this one small, black and fluffy – curled up next to a ridiculously large plush bear. A pile of books rested on the table beside the bed, more clustering on the bookcases that lined two of the walls. The third was dominated by a massive doll house.

“I ken ye’re probably a wee bit old fer dolls,” her grandmother said, seeing her interest in it, “but James made it fer ye mother, and we canna bear to part with it.”

“It’s fantastic.” Harmony studied it, tried to imagine her stern, no-nonsense, thin-as-a-rail mother playing with the beautifully carved family.

“Roland Alexander carved the dolls,” her grandmother said, her lips pursed in disapproval. “Before he scarpered town, with rumors nipping at his heels. I’ll never forgive him for leaving the farm in the hands of that nasty Mister Jenkins.”

Harmony set her backpack down on a wooden chair and wandered over to pat the cat. It yawned at her sleepily, sniffed her hand, then licked it. Its tongue rasping and wet. Harmony giggled. “I think it likes me.”

“She,” her grandmother replied. “Her name is Brenna, and she is a verra good judge of character. Anyway, I had best return to my soup. Make yerself at home.”

“Can I pat the sheep?”

“They’re mostly a wee bit shy, but I’ll introduce ye to Heather later. She’s a sweetheart.” She bustled out of the room, leaving Harmony alone with Brenna and the books.

Harmony opened her backpack, and unpacked her few items: hung her clothes in the tiny closet, nestled in beside a couple of woolen coats. She set her notebook and colorful array of pens on the desk, next to the Singer sewing machine and among the colorful mess of spooled cotton. Finally, beside her pillow, she placed her favorite book in the whole wide world. Her fingers stroked the cover, so worn it was almost as thin as tissue paper.

“Maybe here I’ll find a secret garden of my own,” she whispered her wish into the cat’s silken fur. Then, she scooped up her walkman and popped in one of her mix tapes (‘happy songs for summer’), before collapsing among the cushions, humming along to ‘Walking on Sunshine’. Brenna, after only a moment’s hesitation, padded over, nudged her with a cold nose, and plonked herself down in Harmony’s lap. Harmony couldn’t hear the cat’s purring over Katrina and the Waves, but could feel them vibrating up her belly. This, she thought, felt more like home than the sterile, stark mansion in the city ever had.


	2. Community Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After days of being cooped inside due to the rain, Harmony is dragged to the community center in the hope that she might make some friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 80s were a great time to be a teenager. Please note there will be lots of mix-tapes, a bit of bad fashion, role-playing, and petty teenage girl politics. Also, slang words that may or may not be anachronistic.
> 
> Part one of this novel was a real nostalgia trip!

Life at the Ranch suited Harmony. Within a few days, Brenna began trailing her around the house, jumping on her lap whenever she sat down. Heather and her also became fast friends, the lamb had been orphaned, and bottle fed. Harmony enjoyed rubbing her fingers through the lamb’s thick, curly wool, and feeding her pieces of apple and carrot. She helped out with the chickens too, although the two turkeys scared her, with their bright, mad eyes – there was something decidedly prehistoric about them.

Every day, she squelched through mud, helping her grandfather – along with Whiskey and Scotch – round up the ewes that free ranged across the Cindersap forest pastures, and herding them into the milking shed. Heck, Harmony hadn’t even realized you could milk sheep.

“Best feta cheese in the Valley,” her Grandmother assured her.

“When do we shear them?” she’d asked her grandfather. 

“I’m too old for that, and you’re too young,” he’d replied. “Takes a great deal of strength and skill. We bring in the Fairview team once a year, shear them in late Spring, when the lambs are starting to wean and before the days get too hot.”

She hadn’t asked about selling them for meat. Harmony couldn’t abide the thought of killing these sweet, docile creatures. In fact, she’d be vegetarian if it wouldn’t make things too difficult for her grandparents, who still very much followed the meat and two veges (usually followed by some kind of sugary dessert) diet.

“An’ this fine lad is Casanova. A recent acquisition from Fairview.” Her grandfather indicated a large ram, with twisted horns and dark brown wool. He eyed them suspiciously through the very sturdy rails of the fence. “He’ll get his chance with the ewes in a month or so.”

“And then we get lambs?” Harmony grinned at the thought of baby animals skipping around the paddock.

“Aye, they’ll be born late winter – or early Spring. But be careful wit’ him, an entire ram canna be trusted, ye ken.”

Harmony nodded, reaching down to scratch Whiskey between the ears. “He looks gnarly,” she said.

Her grandfather frowned at her. “What’s that mean lass? Ye ken I didna understand this modern speak.”

“Impressively unpleasant,” she replied.

“Aye, that he is. Didna go too near ‘em.”

Harmony stared at his dark eyes, with their slit-pupils, and shivered. Very gnarly indeed.

*

The rains came, heavy, torrential rain that turned the grass to mud and the mud to slush. Held hostage by the weather, Harmony skimmed the books in the bookcase. Her eyes alighted on a small, battered hardback, its title picked out across the spine in cursive: ‘When Marnie was There.’

She slid open the book, inhaled the musty scent of old paper. Ran her fingers across the slightly yellowed edges. Inside, printed with a neat, careful hand: ‘Property of Melanie Stewart’. Her mother’s name, before she’d remade herself as Melody Andrews, the darling of folk-rock. Growing up, Harmony had grown used to her mother’s ethereal, wistful voice haunting the airwaves across the countryside. Had appeared beside her in many tabloids: first as a chubby, laughing toddler, then later, as a fae flower-child, daisies threaded through her hair. It was only as she got older, as adolescence loomed, and replaced her childish charm with awkward clumsiness, that her mother’s interest in her as an accessory had begun to wane. She flipped the book, read the blurb. Another tale about a sickly girl, sent to the countryside to recover. Gave a rueful smile; she wasn’t sickly – despite her mother’s insistence that they follow a diet of grapefruit and cottage cheese – but the story still felt like it could be hers. An unwanted child, sent away into the countryside. She liked the name too – Marnie – more down-to-earth, more natural, than the artificial pretense that was ‘Harmony’. 

If her mother could remake herself, could she do it too?

“Would ye like to come into town wit’ me?” Her grandmother’s voice, calling from the kitchen. “Ye’ve bin hanging around the ranch for three days now. It canna be much fun.” Harmony set the book aside and rolled from the bed; Brenna protested with a yowl. Nerves fluttered in her stomach at the thought of leaving the comfortable confines of the ranch, but her grandma was right – she couldn’t hide here forever. Run a few errands, maybe she’d see Lewis again. She felt her ears heat up a little at the thought. He was way older than her – far too old, of course; he had to be at least twenty – but he had been kinda cute. 

Her grandmother set down her massive carpet bag; it bristled with knitting needles and wool like some sort of crazy hedgehog. She began to scrabble in the hall cupboard until she unearthed a bright pink raincoat. “This was Melanie’s. Try it on.” She thrust it into Harmony’s arms. It was a bit short, barely hanging lower than her waist, and the color faded patchily. 

“Well, it’ll keep the rain off, I guess,” Harmony remarked. “Are we going shopping?”

“Not quite,” her grandma replied. “It’s my craft day at the community hall. Some of the local kids hang out there, and play board games during the holidays. It’ll be fun.”

“Fun,” Harmony echoed, remembering the scorn in Caroline’s eyes, the bored disinterest in Jodi’s. Fun indeed. Still, those two couldn’t be the only girls her age in town, could they?

No, there were four of them, seated around a table, painting a still life of vases and fruit. Caroline, with her green-streaked chestnut tresses, leaned back in her chair, dabbing at her tiny square canvas as though she were stabbing it. Jodi, her long hair beautifully french-braided, studied hers close and intent, dotting the details with painstaking care. Across the table, a curly-haired brunette chatted with the freckled redhead beside her.

“Helloooo Harmony,” Caroline sang out. “Nice jacket. Pink is totally your color.” She sniggered, adding, “Not even.” Jodi and the curly-haired girl laughed but, Harmony noted, it was the ‘I’m laughing because I want you to like me’ kind of laugh, rather than the ‘that was funny’ kind. She hung the jacket on the hook beside the door and cautiously approached the table.

The redhead shot her a shy smile. Her painting was easily the best of the four. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Robin. You’re the Stewart’s kid?”

“Andrews,” Harmony replied. “Harmony Andrews.”

“Oh!” the curly-haired girl exclaimed. “Like that singer – Melody? My mom loves her work. Like totally. She has all the albums.” She hummed a few bars of ‘Broken Little Bird’. “She’s my mom,” Harmony admitted. Maybe this girl could be her friend.

But then it came, the inevitable question: “Can you sing?”

“No,” Harmony replied flatly. “I don’t sing.”

“Oh,” she sounded disappointed, then perked up. “Well, nevermind. I’m Clarissa. Do you wanna join us?”

Harmony could not ignore the glare Caroline was giving her. But why? Why had the girl disliked her on sight? “I’m not very good at art,” she admitted.

Clarissa laughed. “Hah, well, neither am I. So we can be rubbish together, right?”

Caroline stabbed her canvas again, then a slow, slightly scary smile twitched at the edge of her lips. “Well, if you can’t sing, and you can’t paint – what are you good at?” 

What was she good at? Harmony hid her embarrassment by pulling over a chair, and jamming herself awkwardly on the corner between Robin and Clarissa. “I like animals,” she said. “And they seem to like me.”

“You like animals?” Caroline laughed hysterically. “Are you, like, six?”

Harmony tried to hide her blush behind her hair. “And I enjoy reading,” she added, in a whisper, blinking back the sting of tears.

“Who’s your favorite author?” Robin, bless her, swooped in to save her. “Have you tried the Sweet Valley High series yet? They’re pretty good.”

“No, not yet. I’ve been reading the classics. What are they about?”

“They’re about identical twins – Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield – who solve mysteries. I’ll lend you the first one, if you like?”

Clarissa added her input, and even Jodi spoke up, leaving Caroline pouting and stabbing her innocent painting.

They were interrupted, a short time later, as a group of boys barged into the crafts room.

“No fair!” one, a scrawny kid with a mop of blond hair, exclaimed. “You got to be the wizard last time, Rasmus.”

The dark-haired, stouter one glared at him. “I’m always the wizard, Marl, you should know that by now.” He gestured theatrically with his right hand. “It’s my calling.”

“You should flip a coin on it.” The final, bespectacled, boy ran his fingers through his long hair. “That would be fair.”

“Not even,” Rasmus scoffed. “I’m the wizard. I’m always the wizard.”

“Well, if you’re really the wizard, Ras, then you’ll be able to use your magical powers to make the coin flip in your favor, right?” 

“Can’t argue with that,” Marl replied. “Flip on it, Jasper.”

“If you must,” Rasmus growled. “But I call heads.”

Jasper drew a coin out of his pocket, flicked it in the air, caught it and revealed it with a flourish. “Heads!” he declared.

“Damn right,” Rasmus chortled. “Bite me, Marl.”

Marl snorted, and collapsed onto the couch. “Whatever. Come on Jas, let’s play.”

“Excuse me.” Caroline pushed the chair back, and stood up. Her voice held daggers, enough to make Harmony flinch back in her seat. “Keep it down. We’re trying to paint here.” 

“Yeah?” Marl regarded her belligerently. “Didn’t know you needed silence to make art.” He swung himself back to his feet, stalked around the table and frowned down at her canvas. “You call that painting, sis? Looks like the cat threw up on your canvas.”

Caroline picked up the cup holding the watery paint and, with a flick of her hand, tossed it at him. Jasper and Rasmus hooted in laughter. Marl just stared down at the stain blossoming across his pale shirt, then rose both eyebrows, and added his own boom of laughter to the mix. “Hah, got your claws out, there.” He rose one hand, mocked it into a claw and pawed at the air. 

“You totally deserved that,” Jasper replied. “Now sit your butt down, and let’s play.” He cast a slightly nervous glance at the girls. “Quietly.”

Rasmus regarded their table. His gaze alighted on Harmony. She felt a small, tight twist in her chest as his dark eyes studied her. “Pity we don’t have another player,” he said, giving her a small, slightly shy, smile. Her heart did a funny tight leap in her chest, was he… hinting at her? Then he turned away, and joined Marl on the couch.

“He’s such a dweeb,” Caroline grumbled. “I can’t believe we’re related.”

Jasper plonked a couple of books on the table and started setting up a cardboard screen. It was painted with elaborate artwork depicting a bird made of fire. Marl and Rasmus drew out small cloth bags, and dumped a pile of dice on the table.

“What are they playing?” Harmony asked.

“Something totally lame,” Caroline replied. “Lairs & Losers, or some kinda crap like that.” 

Jodi giggled at the swear word. 

“It’s called Monsters & Mayhem,” Clarissa whispered to Harmony. “It’s a role-playing game.”

A what? 

“Are you gonna paint?” Caroline impaled her with a glare.

Harmony swallowed, pushed back the chair. “No,” she said, slipping quietly out. “I think...” I think I’m gonna go and talk to them.


	3. Monsters & Mayhem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harmony makes some new friends (and tries out her new 'persona').

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think you've previously read this story before today (7th September) please note I've moved everything forward one and thus you may have missed chapter two.
> 
> (also, if you've read "Broken" first (and if you haven't, I suggest you do), please note that this is Jasper Thomas SENIOR.  
> Yes, the one that wrote those 'Lost Books' (M Jasper - I'm going that M is merely standing in for "Mr").

“Hi,” she said, trying to hide the quaver in her voice.

The boys studied her, Marl with eyebrows raised, Jasper abject disinterest, and Rasmus’s dark eyes glittering with something that bordered on mischievous.

Harmony swallowed. “I hear you could use another player?”

“Aren’t you painting?” Marl asked.

“Your game sounds more interesting,” she said, casting a quick gaze over at the girls. Clarissa gaped at her in undisguised awe, but Caroline’s eyes were narrowed into glass daggers.

“Ever role-played before?” Rasmus asked, rewarding her with what appeared to be a genuine smile.

Harmony shook her head.

Jasper groaned, and pretended to bang his head on the table. “Great,” he grumbled. “Do you even know what it is?”

The girls behind her giggled, and Harmony blushed.

“It’s a bunch of geeks playing make believe,” Caroline shouted.

Marl rolled his eyes. “Ignore Princess Emerald,” he said. “Think of it as pretending to be someone else for a few hours – someone awesome. Like Sir Edmund the Brutal.” He set a piece of paper in front of him, and set a small metal figure on top of it. “The greatest hero that the world has ever seen.” He plucked a can of cola from his backpack, and pulled the tab.

Rasmus sniggered. “And Rasmodius the Red, High Wizard, and savior of the seven isles.” He’d painted his own metal figure, rather clumsily.

“But he’s purple,” Harmony pointed out. 

Marl snorted a laugh, almost spraying cola out his nose. “Yeh, but Pashmodius the Purple sounded wrong,” he spluttered.

Rasmus glared at him, then turned his crooked smile back onto Harmony. “Purple is a very mystical color. Anyway, what’s your name, new girl?”

Harmony gulped, cast a glance over at the table, where she was proving a way more interesting spectacle than their paintings. Well, it was now or never, did she really want to keep standing in her mother’s shadow?

She leaned forward. “Marnie,” she whispered. “Marnie Stewart.”

Marl thrust out his hand, studied it for a moment, then wiped it on his jeans and offered it again. “Pleasure to meet you, Marnie Stewart,” he said, rolling the ‘r’ as though he were savoring her name. “Marlon Werner.” She accepted his hand, and shook it. His palm was slightly sticky from (hopefully) the spilled cola, and she wiped it surreptitiously on her sweater. Marlon gestured at his friends. “Our fine wizard, Rasmus Lund A.K.A. Rasmodius the… well, Red, and our game master, the talented Jasper Thomas.” 

Jasper blushed and pushed his glasses up his nose. “What class would you like to play, Marnie?”

“Um, I’m about to start ninth grade,” she ventured; she had no idea what he meant.

Rasmus and Marlon laughed, but Jasper looked like he was about to throw something. “No, I mean what hero class. Um. We’ve got a spell caster–”

“Wizard!” Rasmus interjected.

“Yeah, and a fighter – sorry, I mean warrior! – so that leaves thief or healer.”

“What’s better?” 

“For this scenario,” he pondered. “Could go either way. Rasmodius has one healing spell, but he keeps forgetting to use it, and these guys can’t sneak for shit.”

“Language Jasper.” Marlon grabbed his arm, shot a sideways glance at Harmony.

Harmony laughed. “Shit’s fine,” she said. “I’m living on the ranch. You have no idea how much shit I’ve had to scoop.” She laughed as Jasper blushed. “I’d like to be a healer. If that’s okay?”

“Radical,” he said, handing her a piece of paper, the words ‘character sheet’ printed across the top. “Now, do you want to be a pointy-eared tree hugger; a stout, fat dude who lives in the ground; short and sneaky; or just a plain boring human?”

“We’re humans,” Marlon interjected.

“Are you sure about that?” Caroline called over.

“Hey, don’t forget we’re related,” he shouted back at her. 

“As if. You’re totally adopted. Mom pulled you out of the drain.”

He rose his middle finger in her direction and turned his attention back to Harmony. “Human?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Now, we roll for your stats: strength, agility, intelligence, wisdom, health and charisma.”

“Can I be beautiful?” she asked, blushing further. But hey, if she couldn’t be in real life, couldn’t her character be instead?

Jasper shrugged. “That’s charisma,” he said. “And sure, if you like. But beauty’s not gonna help in this scenario. For a healer you probably want good wisdom and decent health.” Marlon rose his eyebrows. “Beauty might be overrated,” he said, “and wisdom is definitely a more attractive choice – but charisma can help you charm your way out of trouble.” He pressed three dice into her hand. “Go on, roll.” 

She did, and Marlon helped her distribute the numbers accordingly. They worked their way through the rest of the form, while Rasmus doodled cartoon wizards across the back of his character sheet. At this point, a quick glance across at the table showed the girls had lost attention, and were back to leaning their heads together, whispering quietly.

“Now, tell us a little about yourself, Marnie the human healer.” Jasper pushed his glasses back and gave her a slightly weak smile. 

“Um,” she blushed, suddenly self-conscious.

“Where are you from,” Marlon prompted, added, “Your character, I mean. And why’s she here, in a shit-hole tavern with us?”

“Right.” Harmony swallowed. “She’s, I mean, I was, am I guess, the daughter of like, a well-known, but not particularly liked um, baron?” Marlon nodded in encouragement. “And, he wanted to like, marry me off to some neighboring fiefdom. But I didn’t want that, cos marriage is like, totally lame.”

“Totally,” Rasmus agreed, nodding sagely, and doing little to disguise the smile dancing on his lips.

“So I took a little money, enough to get by, and ran away to seek my fortune. Disguised myself as a boy, lied my way onto a caravan and found myself here. Um, where is here, exactly?”

Jasper smiled at her, flexed the pile of photocopied sheets, fastened with a single staple. “Erewhon,” he said. “That’s ‘nowhere’ backwards.”

“As you told us last time.” Rasmus groaned in an exaggerated fashion. “Very clever.”

“Thank you.” Jasper’s lips quirked into a smile. “Anyway, it’s like, totally, really the middle of nowhere. Where, once upon a time, there was once a thriving mining town, now there’s nothing but a bunch of burned up wooden cottages, and a stone tavern. What happened here, you wonder?”

“We search the rubble,” Marlon declared. “Hope to find a survivor.”

“You search the rubble,” Rasmus muttered. “I’m gonna cast Detect Evil, see if I can use my wizard-y senses to see if anything is amiss.”

“Marnie?” Jasper asked.

“Um, I’ll look in the tavern. Maybe there’s someone hiding in there – or some sort of clue as to what happened?”

“Right then,” Jasper declared. “Roll.”

Harmony found herself swept up into the story. 


	4. Legacy and the Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rasmus reveals his heritage.

“Seriously, are you really gonna pull this P.C. bullshit again?” Jasper groaned, tugging at his hair.

“I’m just saying,” Harmony replied. “We’re the ones who broke into their caves, and started like, totally slaughtering their wives and kids.”

“Well, they did murder half the townsfolk,” Rasmus remarked.

“Do we have definitive evidence it was them? Maybe it was just a couple of rogue ones. Just because they’re goblins, does that mean they don’t have a right to survive?”

Jasper glared at Rasmus. “I told you this is what would happen,” he said, “ if we let a girl play the game.”

The look Marlon shot him held disappointment, peppered with a hint of pity. “Girl’s got a point,” he said. “I mean, how did that lowly servant manage to witness the slaughter, yet somehow survive it? Bit suspicious, don’t you think? You gotta think outside the box, dude.”

“It’s a pre-written scenario,” Jasper grumbled. “It is the box.”

“Improvise,” Rasmus replied. “You’re good at that – remember last year, when we totally failed to get the hint – and, like literally, missed the boat? Then had to stop the squid-god from drowning the world with a tsunami? That was one of your best games yet.” He made a fist and mock-punched Jasper in the arm. “Come on, you know these break-into-the-dungeon, kill-all-the-monsters and steal-all-the-loot scenarios are getting a bit old, a bit lame. We’d like something with bite.”

“I could try and come up with something,” Harmony ventured. They’d been meeting to play Monsters & Mayhem every Friday for the better part of the last two months – and she was fairly confident that she’d be a better games master than Jasper, who tended to read the flavor text with very little emotion and failed to encourage appropriate levels of tension.

“It better not be flower arranging,” Jasper retorted. “Or, I dunno, some sort of friendship-solves-all-your-problems bullshit.”

Harmony tossed a dice at him. “Oh ye of little faith,” she said, laughing as he snatched it from the air. “Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean it’s gonna be all rainbows and unicorns and cotton-candy sparkles.”

“I’ve got nothing against cotton-candy sparkles.” Marlon grinned at her. “Especially if they’re on those rad cup cakes you brought last week. So, next week, then?” He groaned, scooping his dice back into their bag. “I can’t believe summer vacation is almost over.”

“Nah, can’t do next week,” Harmony replied. “It’s the Valley Fair, remember? I’ve promised grandpa I’ll help out with the petting zoo.” 

“Yeah,” Marlon commented. “And I’ve gotta help my dad with the Adventurer’s Guild presentation.”

Jasper laughed. “I can’t believe you guys still keep the old Adventurer’s Guild alive,” he said. “Everyone knows that monsters aren’t real.”

“You really believe that?” Marlon stood. “Just because the Void’s lain dormant for, like, a decade, that doesn’t mean it ain’t legit.” He paced around the craft room – they were, thankfully, the only people using it at the moment. 

“Do you believe in monsters, Marn?” Jasper asked.

She hated it when they put her on the spot like this, expected her to take sides. She liked Jasper and Marlon, and Rasmus’s sly half-smile was like a pinch to her heart. How could she choose which side she was on? And did she believe in monsters?

Rasmus saved her. “Oh, the Void’s totally real,” he said, so casually that he might as well have been discussing the weather. “Why do you think there’s so many accidents in the mines?”

Jasper winced. “My father works in the mines,” he said, worry creeping into his voice. “And they had another collapse, last night. Buried a very promising seam of copper, but luckily no-one was there at the time.”

“Then there was that gas leak in the eastern sector,” Marlon added. “The miners say it smelled of sulfur.”

“Stink damp,” Jasper said, knowingly. “Heinous stuff. They won’t be going back there, maybe ever. But that’s all natural events, what makes you think it’s the Void, Ras?”

“I found this,” he said. “Or rather, my mother gave it to me.” He reached into his backpack, and drew out a notebook. “It’s from my dad.”

“Your dad?” Harmony exclaimed. Rasmus never talked about his father – she’d figured he must’ve done a runner when he’d been a baby. “What is it?”

Rasmus offered them one of his slow cat-got-the-cream smiles. “It’s a wizard’s handbook,” he said.

“You’re totally joshing with us,” Jasper exclaimed. 

“I totally am not,” Rasmus sounded quite affronted. “Do you know wanna know who my father is?” He opened the notebook, held it up for them to see the inscription:

“To my first-born son,   
It is my greatest regret that I shall never see you become the man I know you will. All I can give you is my guidance, and the wisdom of our ancestors.   
R. Alexander.”

“R. Alexander,” Marlon whispered. “Roland Alexander! Does that mean...” he lowered his voice. “Does that mean, Darkhaven technically belongs to you?”

Rasmus stared at him. “He abandoned my mother when he found out she was pregnant,” he said, a coldness in his tone that sent a shiver down Harmony’s spine. “And booked it with his new bride. Your aunt,” he added, stalking across the room, glaring at Marlon. “He’s not about to leave me his fucking farm. No, that’ll be for… what’s your cousin’s name again?”

“Oliver.” Marlon’s voice came out as a low whisper.

“Yeah, little Olly Alexander. The fucking golden child.” He slammed his fist into the wall, making Harmony flinch, then snatched up the notebook, and stormed from the room.

“Ras,” Harmony whispered, jogging after him. “Don’t be mad at Marlon – please – it’s not his fault.” She put her hand on his arm, but he shot her a look that dripped with pure venom, and pushed her aside.

“The Void taints all it touches,” Marlon whispered. He stared after his friend, a look of devastation on his angular face. Harmony hurried back, wrapped her arms around him. He stood stiffly for a moment, then wrapped one arm across her back, and squeezed her shoulder. “Thanks Marns,” he whispered into the crown of her head.

“So are we gonna play again in a fortnight, or not?” Jasper asked, folding up the screen, and throwing the pile of papers into the box. He narrowed his eyes at Harmony, lips twisting into a slightly mocking grin. “I’m very much looking forward to your game.”


	5. Magic in the Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harmony pays a visit to Rasmus.
> 
> WARNING: contains reference to cutting/self harm

Harmony loved the library from the moment she walked through the doors. It was so delightfully cluttered, the bookcases arrayed in a seemingly haphazard fashion. The sign outside indicated that it doubled as a museum as well – perhaps she’d get some feel for the Valley’s past.

It was a beautiful, late summer day, and the library was almost empty. Harmony switched off her walkman, cutting Billy Idol off mid-sentence.

The librarian, shelving books near the doorway, looked up as Harmony entered. She was fairly young, and very pretty, her heart-shaped face framed with delicate curls.

“Hallo!” she said. Then did a double-take. “You are Marnie Stewart, yes?” Her accent was musical, the words lilting.

“Um, yes.” Harmony blushed, both pleased and flustered that she seemed to have shed the Harmony Andrews name. “How do you know?” A tentative question.

“Birgitte,” she said. “Birgitte Lund. Rasmus’s mother,” she added, although Harmony had already figured that out.

“Oh, yes,” Harmony replied. “Um, how is he?” 

“I wish I had not given him that book,” she said, her hands fluttering nervously. “Now, all he does is sit in his room and listen to that dark music. I worry for him. For his soul. Do you come to visit with him?”

Harmony shook her head. “Not exactly – but I’d like to, if that’s okay?” She wasn’t sure he’d see her. Remembered how he’d brushed her hand away, and that glare. “But also, I need some books. Do you have, like, a fantasy section? Lord of the Rings, that kinda stuff?”

“Yes, yes of course.” She guided Harmony over to a shelf hidden in the corner. “Is this for that Monsters Mayhem game?”

Harmony nodded. “I’ve offered to run one,” she said. “So it’s research, I guess.”

“Be careful,” Ms Lund cautioned. “You flirt with the darkness, sometimes it let’s you in.”

A chill down her spine. This sounded very much like Ms Lund was talking from personal experience. Or was she cautioning her against becoming too close to Rasmus? Who knew. She ran her finger along the shelves. “Any you’d recommend?”

“Oh.” Ms Lund seemed flustered. “I do not read the genre myself. But I hear that this one, it is good.” She drew out a book with a bright, cartoon-like cover. 

“The Color of Magic.” Harmony traced her fingers along the title. “A kid’s book?” 

“I do not think so? Well, I shall leave you to it, yes?”

“Yes,” Harmony replied, then added, “Thank you.”

The librarian bustled away, leaving her to explore the shelves and start to amass a small pile. Finally, she carried her haul to the counter and presented her grandmother’s library card.

“You will want this one as well.” Ms Lund added another book to the pile.

“A story about rabbits?” Harmony rose her eyebrows, forehead creasing.

“It is very good,” she said. “Do not judge, until you have read it.” She stamped the return date on the slips in the books and filled out the cards. “Now, you would like to talk to Rasmus?”

“Yes please – but only if that’s okay with him?”

“Come, come,” she said. “Leave books here, it’s all right.” She guided Harmony through a door marked “PRIVATE” and into a residence. 

“It must be pretty amazing,” Harmony exclaimed, “living in the library.”

“It is good, yes,” Ms Lund replied. “Always have something new to read!” 

They walked past a kitchen, and to a closed door at the end of the hallway. A tag on the door laid out the name “Rasmus” in colorful block letters, and beneath it a piece of lined paper had been taped to the door, the words “KEEP OUT!” scrawled in sharpie. Loud, sludgy-sounding music poured from within, the heavy bass line making the door rattle.

“Rasmus!” Ms Lund shouted, rapping on the door. But, of course, he couldn’t hear her. “You will ruin your ears,” she muttered, then turned the handle. 

The music erupted forth, ear-splittingly loud. Ms Lund bustled into the room, and slammed her hand on the boom box. It cut off mid-howl, leaving Harmony’s ears ringing faintly.

“What the– Mom!” Rasmus whined from his desk. Then his eyes alighted on Harmony.

She started at the sight of him. He was naked to the waist, clad in tight black jeans. He leaned his chair back onto two legs, a wicked smile dancing on his lips. “What are you doing here?” Then waved his hand dismissively at his mother. “We’re good, Mom, you can go now.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Very well,” she said. “But the door, it stays open. And the music off.” Then, to Harmony, her face softer. “If you need me, just call, yes?”

“Yoba,” he muttered as she departed, forking his fingers through his hair. “As if I’d fool around with a kid.”

Harmony felt herself blush. There was, at most, two years between them, but she wasn’t about to point that out. He had, clearly, experienced more than she probably ever would. She was embarrassed enough at the sight of his pale chest.

“I’m not like my father,” he shouted after her. “Shit, sorry you got tangled up in my drama, Marn,” he said to her, his voice lower. “How’s the game mastery coming along? Jasper’s gonna be so pissed when you upstage him.” He offered her his sly smile, the sort, she imagined, had inspired the term ‘weak at the knees’ in romantic prose. 

“I’m researching,” she said. “Hey, maybe you can help me? I wanna do something different from this boring dungeon crawling. Something rad.”

“Hmmm,” he pondered, his slender fingers stroking his chin. “A twist is always good – if the dude that you think is actually helping you turns out to be the dastardly villain. And there’s gotta be something to kill, Marl’ll be pissed if he doesn’t get to stab something.” He paused and studied Harmony, his dark eyes intense. “Doesn’t it freak you out,” he said, “that magic is, like, real and shit like that.”

“Is it?” 

“Fuck yeah,” he said, making Harmony wince. Shit might be fine, but the f-word made her super uncomfortable. “Sorry. Wanna see?”

“Sure.” She studied him skeptically. 

“Cool. I hope you’ve got a strong stomach.”

“What?” Her eyes narrowed. “You better not be sacrificing some sort of animal.”

“Yoba, no! Nothing like that. Just… Well, you’ll see.” He reached into the top drawer and drew out a wrapped bundle. Opened it, to reveal a glint of silver: a razor blade. 

Harmony flinched away. “Shit, Rasmus.”

“I love it when you swear.” He grinned at her. Yep, definitely knee weakening. “It’s fine, okay?”

She tried not to watch – but somehow couldn’t drag her eyes away – as he drew the blade across the top of his arm, just deep enough to draw blood. It wasn’t the first, she noticed, a number of small, thin scratches criss-crossed his forearm. “Won’t your mom notice?”

“Maybe,” he said. “But, well, we do own a very enthusiastic cat. Blood makes the magic work. Blood, or sweat, or tears.” That damned wicked grin again. “And maybe other bodily fluids as well.” He squeezed his arm, so that the blood beaded in a droplet, dipped the tip of his finger in it, and used it to trace a rune on a piece of paper. “Now, watch this.” He slipped something else out of the drawer, balanced it on the palm of his hand: a smooth pale blue gemstone. “Aquamarine,” he said, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s my focus stone.”

“Yoba,” Harmony whispered, as the gem began, ever so faintly, to glow. Rasmus’s forehead creased in concentration, and the piece of blood-smeared paper twitched and rose from the desk. The stone glowed brighter, and the paper began to fold itself, twisting into the very crude shape of a bird: a crane. Harmony had made dozens of them a few years ago, after reading about Sadako’s last wish. Her hand throbbed, and she realized she’d been driving her fingernails into her palm.

The crane flapped its wings, soared a loop-de-loop, then crashed to the desk. Rasmus grinned at her. Sweat beaded his forehead, and there were dark shadows under his eyes, but his smile was one of pure delight.

“Who wants a stupid farm anyway?” he said, flicking the gemstone in the air with his thumb, and catching it. “When they can hold this sort of power in their hands?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious, Rasmus is listening to Black Sabbath, specifically "The Wizard".


	6. Getting Your Goat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harmony is sent on a mission: to collect a couple of kids (the four-legged kind) for the Stardew Fair.

Harmony sat on her bed, surrounded by books. She now had just over a week to come up with a scenario that would impress the boys – and it was way harder than she’d thought.  
The problem was, of course, that it wasn’t like writing a story – when you wrote a story, you could, more-or-less, make the characters do you wanted them to do. But Jasper, she suspected, would throw her curveballs left and right, trying to screw up anything she had orchestrated. No, she had to be clever – and she had to be prepared.

Either that, or she had to have a plot so compelling that even Jasper wouldn’t want to ruin it.

She’d picked up another book too, a historic guide to Stardew Valley, on a whim, after Rasmus’s little demonstration. She still couldn’t believe that magic was real – and if magic was real, did that mean the monsters were too?

But what, really, was a monster? She’d argued with the boys almost every week at their wanton disregard for the lives of demihumans, and she couldn’t abide cruelty to animals – so what was it that made a monster, monstrous?

“Harmony, sweetheart!” Her grandfather’s voice boomed out from the other room. 

“Yes?” she called back, pushing the cat off. Brenna had become awfully plump over the last few weeks. Harmony expected Ginger Tom had something to do with that. Hopefully the kittens would be born before she had to return to the school, because Grandma had promised they’d let her choose one to keep (here, of course, since her mother couldn’t abide animals in the house).

“Can ye do me a favor, love?” 

“Sure.” She slid off the bed and padded, barefoot, towards the front door.

Her grandfather stood in the mudroom, still wearing his boots. “Can ye head over to Darkhaven and pick up the kids for the Fair tomorrow?”

“Darkhaven?” she shivered. There were kids there?

“Aye. Harry promised to lend us a couple. For the petting zoo.”

Oh! Of course. “Baby goats – right?”

“Och aye. I canna go meself, and if we didna pick them up today, we willna have time to get ‘em properly prettified. Didna fret about Harry,” he added. “He’s a grumpy bugger at the best of times, but he’s an alright lad, once ye get ter know him.” He scratched his beard. “Best to go the long way though,” he added. “He didna take kindly to trespassers.” “Shoot first, ask questions later?” 

“Aye. Probably comes from living on that farm, it’s – what’s that word ye young un’s use today?”

“Bogus?” she ventured. “Or gnarly?”

“One or other. Ye gonna be alright to bring ‘em back? They’ll be on ropes, but I didna know if they’ll be harness trained, ye ken.”

“I’ve walked the dogs through town,” she said.

He laughed, his warm booming laugh. “Ah, but ye ken, goats are a different kinda beastie altogether.”

“I’ll be fine,” she declared, sounding way more self-assured than she felt.

The walk into town was a pleasant one, although summer was approaching its end, the days were still warm, and a couple of fishermen waved at her from the riverbank along Willow Lane. The town square was a bustling hive of activity. Stalls were being set up, there was also a ferris wheel that looked way more precarious than Harmony liked, and an array of tables for the grange displays. Her Grandmother had been fussing about that all week, trying to select her “most perfect” wheels of cheese, whilst also adding the final purls to a jumper (made from their own wool), for her display. Harmony had been collecting, cleaning, and weighing the eggs from their chickens, and set them aside in cartons, to sell at their stall – along with the less aesthetically perfect cheeses.

She paused outside the general store to watch what appeared to be a puppet show be set up. Jumped a little as the door jingled open and someone said, loudly: “Hey Marnie.” She turned, found Marlon grinning at her. “Excited for the fair tomorrow?”

“Totally,” she replied. Her mother had dragged her to a variety of events and galas, but they’d all been formal affairs, where she’d had to stand still, keep her clothes uncreased and clean, taking care to remain picture perfect – and not even allowed to sample more than two pieces of the finger food.

(“You cannot appear too greedy,” her mother had cautioned her. “You must set a proper example.”) Aside from the ferris wheel, which looked positively terrifying, it seemed like a lot of fun.

“What brings you to town?” he asked. “I’d have thought you’d be busy on the farm, getting everything ready.”

She pulled a face. “I have to go to Darkhaven,” she said. “Get the goats. I thought you’d be busy with the Adventurer’s Guild stuff.”

“I’m on an errand,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “My mother has sent me on a quest for eggs. But, alas, it appears the general store is out of stock – probably because Missus Mullner always goes overboard with her chocolate cakes and cookies. In fact, perhaps you can help. Cinder’s farm has chickens, right?”

“I’m sure we can spare you a few,” she said.

“That’d be dope. Thanks. And, I suppose, in gratitude, it would only be gentlemanly of me to escort you to Darkhaven.”

“Totally,” she replied, shooting him a sly grin. “You’re curious about it, aren’t you?”

“No shit Sherlock,” he returned. She mock-punched him in the arm, and he feigned hurt, skipping away from her, clutching his arm. “It’s been like a mystery for, like, ever. No-one goes in there. Oh, we ain’t gonna get shot, are we?”

“He’s expecting me,” she said. “So I guess I’m safe. You, on the other hand...”

He stabbed her in the shoulder with his finger. “If I go down, I’m taking you with me.”

Harmony had started walking, and he fell into step beside her, matching her pace. “So, you written your game yet?”

“I’ve got some ideas,” she said. “Nothing concrete yet.” Added, more tentatively, “Have you talked to Rasmus?”

“Yeah, our dark dude rang last night. Chatted until Caroline booted me off the phone. Everything’s stellar. So don’t think you’re gonna worm your way out of G.M.ing that easily.”

Did he tell you about the magic? she wanted to ask, but knew it wasn’t her place to tell. Instead, she remembered an earlier question she’d had. “What makes a monster monstrous?”

He rose his eyebrows at her, and regarded her carefully. At first she thought he was going to take the mickey, but his tone was serious: “Well, I can’t speak about human monsters like serial killers, but, the monsters here? Well, they were animals – or maybe, you know, non-human people – once, until they became corrupted by the Void.”

“But what is the Void?” Her parents had been too caught up in celebrity life to be particularly religious, and she’d been more-or-less raised agnostic, but she did know that the Void was the antithesis of Yoba’s light and life. “It’s darkness and shadow, right?”

“Wow, pretty heavy talk for the last morning of summer.” Marlon ruffled his hair. “Yeah, it’s darkness and shadow, alright, but not, like the shadow cast by the sun, more like… a shadow on the soul, perhaps? A kinda taint that accentuates all that is dark and bad inside something, and brings out its rawer, base side … well, you’ll see. We’ve got a couple of surprises for the fair tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Harmony just picked up one something he’d said earlier. “What’s this about non-human people?”

“You know, like dwarfs, goblins, elves, the shadow-folk. Fairies too, I guess, although the juries out on whether they’re real.” He sounded genuinely surprised that she didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“But they’re all make believe!” Harmony exclaimed, then faltered at the look on his face. “Aren’t they?”

He grinned, tapped the side of his nose with his forefinger. “There’s more to this world than you know, Harmony Andrews.”

It took her a moment to realize what he’d said, then she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Oh what?” he said, pretending to be outraged. “Caroline is my sister. And you told her, then introduced yourself to us with a different name – right in front of her! Of course she’s gonna tease me all about it. And I totally get it, too, the desire to escape that kinda life.” He gave her a slightly guilty look. “Caroline may have pulled out some old magazines,” he admitted. “You sure were a cute kid.” Cheeky smile, trying to tease a reaction out of her. Sod that.

“And now?” 

He glanced quickly away, suddenly fascinated by the fence. “You’re still cute,” he mumbled.

“What was that?” She nudged him with her elbow. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Nothing,” he snapped back, and she was amused by the red flush in his cheeks. “Come on, we’d better get moving. Maybe Jenkins will shoot me and put me out of my misery.”

It was with some trepidation that the two kids pushed open the gate and slipped through. Darkhaven looked way less creepy than Harmony had painted it in her mind. The farmhouse was a pretty wisteria-draped cottage. A flurry of barks greeted them, and a yellow dog lunged out from the side of the house, drawn up short by a chain. The fields were well manicured, bushes studded with blueberries framed one side of the path, and beyond them, an enormous field of melons stretched almost as far as Harmony could see, the fruit looking plump and ripe and ready for harvest.

“How does he do this all himself?” she gaped.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” A hat, and shortly afterward, a head, appeared from behind the row of blueberry bushes.

Harmony coughed. “I’m, well,” a quick glance at Marlon, “Harmony Andrews, from Cinder’s Ranch. I’ve been sent to pick up a couple of err, kids. For the petting zoo, tomorrow.” Jenkins stood fully, and regarded them. He was tall and bulky, the kind of muscular that someone gets from a lot of physical work. His face was stern, but not unkind, the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes indicating that a smile might not be entirely alien to him. His thin lips twitched into said smile, although it wasn’t particularly convincing. 

“Who’s that with you?”

“Marlon Werner,” Marlon replied, thrusting his chest out and standing tall. 

“Oh yes, the monster hunter.” He chuckled. “Won’t find no monsters here, son. Anyhow, I’m a bit busy right now – gotta harvest these blues for the fair tomorrow. Just knock on the door, Lily’ll get you your goats.”

“Lily?” The kids cast a glance at each other, but Marlon looked as confused as Harmony felt. Clearly Jenkins private life was exactly that – very private. Well, one way to find out. Harmony knocked on the door.

“Hello?” the girl that creaked it open was probably about sixteen or seventeen. She was wearing a thin blue nightdress – despite the fact that it was about noon – and her straight, dark hair hung almost to her waist. She was also deathly pale. Here, truly, was the sickly girl sent to the countryside to recover. Marlon made a valiant – if somewhat unsuccessful – effort to focus on her face, rather than her breasts, which were all too obvious through her nightdress.

“Lily?” he choked out.

“Yes,” she said. She sounded almost wispy, like she was a ghost. Her eyes were a bright, almost unnatural, shade of green, and seemed far more focused than her voice. Harmony barged past, putting herself between Marlon and her. “We’ve come to pick up some goats,” she said. “Your … father,” she ventured (didn’t want to think of any alternative), “said that you would help us. But, err, you might like to put some clothes on first.” 

She nodded. “Oh yes, that sounds good.” She turned and darted away. Harmony turned and prodded Marlon in the chest. “Eyes up, mister.”

“What?” he exclaimed. “I wouldn’t. I wasn’t. Shit, do you think he’s like kidnapped her or something? Maybe she’s some sort of secret child-bride?” 

Both thoughts had crossed Harmony’s mind. “She seems drugged.”

They’d been talking in low whispers, but couldn’t help cast a glance over their shoulder at Jenkins. He was staring at them, in a manner that suggested, despite them keeping their voices down, he knew exactly what they were talking about.

Not that it would take much imagination to figure it out. There was definitely something a little odd about Lily.

She re-appeared a moment later, wearing – thank Yoba – trousers, a loose-fitting shirt, and a bright yellow, fringed jacket, about two sizes too big for her. 

“Sorry,” she said, casting those piercing green eyes from Marlon to Harmony. “I am not a morning person. Goats, yes?” Her words were still a little ethereal, but she moved with apparent purpose, ‘accidentally’ brushing past Marlon as she made her way down from the porch. 

Her bare feet padded silently, and apparently without pain, along the stony path. Jenkins stopped staring at them and returned his attention to harvesting berries. 

“Is he your father?” Harmony asked, deciding not to dance around the subject. 

Her gaze sure was penetrating. “Yes,” she replied. “I am Liliana Jenkins.”

“I’m M–” Marlon began, but Lily silenced him with a wave of her hand.

“I know,” she said. “You’re Marlon Werner, and she,” the word hissed, like it personally offended her, “is Harmony Andrews, although she currently is calling herself Marnie Stewart, for reasons I do not care to understand.”

Marlon and Harmony exchanged bewildered looks.

“I think she’s a vampire,” Harmony mouthed.

“Succubus,” Marlon mouthed back.

Harmony just shrugged, having no idea what that was. Some sort of monster, probably?

“Your goats.” Lily paused in front of a small paddock. The goats came bounding over, thrusting their heads through the slats in the fence. Several had quite impressive horns, but Harmony still rushed over to hold her hand out for them to sniff. They seemed disgusted that she hadn’t brought them food, until Marlon produced an apple from his pocket. Then he became the center of their attention. He bit off a chunk and handed it to Harmony. She took it carefully, held it out so they could nibble at it the edge of it. It was gone in a heart-beat.

“Which two are ours?” Harmony asked.

Lily just shrugged and handed them each a leash. She then stepped back, to stand beneath a sweeping maple tree. Here, she rocked from heel to toe, regarding them with a cool, slightly curious expression.

“Drugs,” Harmony whispered in Marlon’s ear. Then, louder, “Which ones do you think are ours?”

“The two with collars,” Lily said dryly, curling her hair around her finger. “And I am not on drugs.”

Harmony shivered. Could she read their minds? Vampire. Definitely a vampire – out in daylight or not.

“There’s one,” Marlon pointed. It was a small ginger and white kid. “I’ll go catch it, if you like?” He bit off another chunk of the apple and handed the rest of it to Harmony. Lily’s lips drew back in amusement. “This should be fun.”

Lead clutched in one hand, Marlon vaulted over the fence. The goats scattered, bounding in all directions. Marlon cursed, and Lily laughed. 

He sighted his target again, crouched down low and started to stalk it. It watched him warily, long ears flopping on either side of its face then, when he was about three feet away, startled, and skipped off.

“Bugger,” he muttered.

Harmony sighed and scrambled over the fence, the wood rasping at her palms. A piece of apple thrust before her like a peace offering, she approached the youngster. While it was focused on her, Marlon began to sneak around it. 

“Good goatie,” Harmony whispered. “You’re a cutie, aren’t you.” It took a tentative step towards her, extending its neck, lips curled back to reveal its teeth. 

In her other hand, Harmony unlatched the hook on the lead, held it open. Was about to reach forward and clip it on, when Marlon lunged for the goat. 

With a startled “maaa!” it skipped away, and Marlon struck the ground in a spray of dirt.

Another goat sneaked forward to lip at the cuff of his trousers.

“I almost had it!” Harmony shouted at him. Meanwhile, under the tree, Lily was jumped up and down and clapping her hands in fey glee.

Marlon stumbled to his feet, dusted off his knees and held up his hands in surrender. “You catch them then.”

Harmony saw the other collared kid, it was even smaller than the first, and pure white. “Look at you, you wee beauty,” she whispered. “Come to Marnie...” Shuffled towards it, holding forth the apple in one hand, the collar in the other. It regarded her a little suspiciously, and took a step back, but she pressed on, guiding it into the corner of the pen. “Aren’t you hungry, sweetheart?” she whispered. 

The kid looked torn between lunging for the apple and fleeing, decided on the latter, and found it had nowhere to go. With it caught in a state of panic, Harmony lunged, fastened the clasp onto its collar, and wrapped her arms around it. It tried to leap, tiny hooves kicking painfully into her stomach, but she held firm, whispered gentle words into its wool and, finally, it calmed enough to accept the offering of apple from her. She kissed it on the nose.

“There you go gorgeous,” she whispered. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Turned to see Marlon regarding her with undisguised awe, and even Lily seemed pleased.

“You’re from the city right?” Marlon asked, as she carried the kid over to him.

“Yeah.” Undeniably stoked at how impressed he seemed.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“Learn what?” Her brow furrowed. “You treat animals with kindness, they’ll respond the same way. Can you look after her? I’ll get the other one.”

He accepted the armful of kid from her, passing her the other lead in the process. Then, he backed up against the fence, cradled the kid against his chest, and fed it the final piece of apple.

Harmony cast a quick glance his way, saw he was still watching her, and flicked him a quick thumbs up, before stalking off around to the other one. It was a little more wary, twitching from hoof to hoof. She kept low, moved slow, carefully pushed it back into the corner. Bribe with one hand, clasp with the other. This one had more powerful legs, and got in a few choice kicks before she managed to contain and calm it.

“Have you got more apples?” she asked Lily, carrying her new captive over to the gate. The little fellow was very wiggly and quite heavy.

“We have a tree,” Lily replied. Then, added, “You are a natural. You do not belong in that stinky city – you belong here, Marnie Stewart.”

“She’s right, you know,” Marlon added, closing the gate behind them. “Heck keep it up like that, and Jenkins might even hire you as a goat wrangler.”

Harmony blushed at the attention. “Come on, let’s get these wee dudes back to the ranch.”

“You can go out the bottom gate.” Jenkins’ voice boomed out. “It’ll be easier for you – and less stressful for them.” He came to stand beside Lily, and she wrapped her arm around his waist, then danced away. “And,” he added, with a glance at Marlon, “I’m not in need of a goat wrangler at the moment – but I’ll keep you in mind if a position ever becomes available. You, boy, on the other hand, need to learn a few lessons in sweet-talking and patience.”

Marlon glanced at the ground to hide the color in his cheeks, and scuffed his boot in the dirt. “Come on, Marns, let’s go.” He glanced at her kid. She’d set it on the ground, and it was now industriously nibbling at the edge of her shirt. “Wanna swap goats?”

“Yes please, thanks.” Her belly ached a little, and she blinked back a few tears from the pain – and also the kindness. Didn’t want to show weakness, even those these people had been nothing but generous towards her. 

Lily skipped over, handed Marlon an apple with a flourish, then to Harmony, and shoved another in her hand.

“See you at the fair tomorrow,” she said, then blew a kiss at Marlon – or possibly the goat, Harmony couldn’t be sure.


	7. The Stardew Valley Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the fair rolls around, and Marlon tries, with minimal success, to convince Harmony that monsters are, in fact, real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in the 80s, the Stardew Valley Fair was held in summer - it was only around the turn of the century (ie, the year 2000), when Lewis became Mayor, that the Luau took its place in summer, and the Fair moved to autumn.

Harmony stood in the shower, enjoying the spray of hot water down her back, and studied her body in the mirror. She’d been staying with her grandparents for only a couple of months, but the sharp angle of her hipbones had begun to soften, and her breasts looked less like two peas on a platter and more, perhaps, like a pair of small teacakes. Her mother would be so pissed – she’d accuse her of getting fat – but her grandmother had seemed pleased:

“You’re starting to flesh out,” she’d said the day before, when Harmony had say down to a breakfast of eggs and toast. She’d pinched Harmony’s cheek, as though that were a good measure. “You’ll be a woman soon. It’s the good food, and the healthy country air.”

She traced the bruising on her stomach, where the kid had kicked her. It had blossomed spectacularly and now ached dully, a deeper throbbing ache than she’d expected. Still, it wasn’t like she’d be wearing a swimsuit. She thought about Rasmus, and the scratches along his arm. If that was what it took to be a wizard, she was glad she wasn’t one. She switched off the shower, and heard pawing at the door. 

“Brenna, can you at least let me shower in peace?” she groaned, padding over to ease it open. It wasn’t Brenna that strolled in, but Ginger Tom. He rubbed his huge head against her leg and brushed up against her. She crouched down to scratch between his ears, drying herself off with a towel clutched in the other hand. 

“What’s up?” She dressed quickly, and followed him from the bathroom. He led her into her room, and butted his head against the closet door, which was slightly ajar. She slid it open.

Brenna’s green eyes blinked up at her. The cat had made herself a nest in the pile of folded towels in the bottom of the wardrobe, and now three kittens suckled against her belly: two ginger, and one patched in ginger, black and white.

“Grandma!” Harmony called, running over to shout through the doorway. “Brenna’s had her kittens. In my wardrobe!” She leaned down to scratch Ginger Tom’s head, was rewarded with a purr like a chainsaw. “Proud daddy-cat,” she whispered.

“How are the kids?” Marlon’s semi-bored drawl in her ear, made Harmony jerk from her reverie. She’d been standing at the edge of the petting pens, watching a couple of children as they fed scraps of apple to the kids. They’d proven a big hit, especially the white one.

“They’re good,” she said. “I wonder if Jenkins would let us keep them.”

“Us,” Marlon smiled. “It’s like you fit right in here, Marns.”

“I know,” she said. “No, you need to hold your hand flat,” the latter directed at one of the children. “Otherwise he might take off your finger.” The child nodded at her, expression serious as he followed her instruction. Then, to Marlon, “I have to go back next Saturday. For school. I wish I could go to school with you guys. Saint Helena’s is a great establishment, very exclusive, but I’d rather go to a school with normal people.”

“Normal?” Marlon rose his eyebrows. “Should I be offended?”

She nudged him with her elbow. “You know what I mean. Schools where I’m not rubbing shoulders with the kids of celebrities and politicians – a school where I can just be myself.” “You could get yourself expelled,” he suggested, smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “But you wouldn’t do that, would you?”

She groaned. “No, of course not. It’s a good idea though. But my mother would never live down the shame.”

“Great way to establish your bad girl image though – you could be like Madonna or something.”

“Except for the bit where I don’t sing.”

“Don’t sing,” he said, rising his eyebrows. “Not, can’t sing?”

She elbowed him again. “Don’t, can’t. Certainly won’t. Not even for you.”

“Shame,” he said. “I fancied we could do a duet and wow everyone’s socks off. But seriously, Stardew Valley High’s just a small country school, but I wish you could join us there. You don’t belong in the city – you belong here, in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere.”

“Erewhon,” she laughed. “Hey, I told Grandma about Lily. She’s met her already, but said she’d keep an eye on her. Thinks she might just be, I dunno, a bit fey or something. She’s definitely his daughter.” 

Marlon nodded. “That’s good.” He glanced around. “I wonder if we’ll see her today? There sure are a lot of people.”

“Hey dudes!” Jasper jogged over to join them, slapped Marlon a high five. “What’s up?”

“We’re just hanging with the animals,” Marlon replied. “But I’d better book it to the Adventurer’s Guild display.” He turned to Harmony. “You wanna come with?” A quick glance at her grandfather, seated in a recliner near Heather’s pen, a glass of beer in one hand, and a book in his lap. “You good, man?”

“Aye. But git back here at noon – ye gran’ll want me at the judging with her.”

Marlon saluted him, and the three of them left, found Rasmus over by the Wheel of Fortune.

“Dudes,” he greeted them with a grin, “and dudette. Check it out.” He held up a paper cup almost overflowing with star tokens. “I’m on a winning streak today.”

“Hey Marnie,” came a shy, soft voice, and a pale figure floated over. Lily, wearing a black and white sundress, her hair braided into a long plait down her back, and lips painted a deep shade of purple. “Marlon,” she purred his name.

Rasmus let out a low whistle, and Marlon elbowed him. 

Lily didn’t appear offended. “Who are your friends?” she asked, gaze flitting from one to the other, settling on Rasmus. “This one, he is very handsome.” A smile tugged at her lips. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He applied his knee-melting smile, and thrust his hand at her. “I am Rasmus. Rasmus Lund.” 

“Lily,” she replied, wrapped her pale hand around his and ran her thumb along the back of his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” She savored the word ‘pleasure’.

“I told you,” Marlon leaned over to whisper in Harmony’s ear. “Succubus.”

Harmony, who’d managed to find a book on mythical creatures in the bookcase, frowned at him. “Shit,” she whispered. “Do you think we’ll need to save him?”

Rasmus leaned over, whispered something in Lily’s ear, which made her giggle, and loop her arm through his.

“Too late,” Marlon whispered. “I think we’ve lost him.”

Harmony could not help the small stab of jealousy, wished Rasmus would look at her like that, like she was someone worthy of desire, and not just one of the gang.

“Lily and I shall ride the ferris wheel,” Rasmus announced, thrusting his chest out and shoulders back. “We’ll meet you kids after lunch.” Without waiting for an answer, he guided Lily away. She cast a glance back over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed, lips twisted into a sly smile. 

Jasper pouted after them. “And just like that another one bites the dust,” he muttered, then glared at Marlon and Harmony. “Don’t you guys abandon me too.”

Marlon looped one arm into Jasper’s, the other into Harmony’s. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “Now, let’s go check out the Adventurer’s Guild stand. My pa worked real hard on it.”

“What is that thing?” Jasper peered into one of three terrarium, at the strange jelly-like creatures that squelched around inside it. There were two of them, about the size of tennis balls, one blue, the other green. Two black dots on their gelatinous surfaces might well have been eyes.

“These,” Marlon said proudly, “Are slimes: a green slime, and a frost jelly. There’s a breeder north of the lake.”

“Are they animals?” Harmony studied them. “Some sort of invertebrate, maybe? Like a jellyfish.” She pondered. “But somehow able to survive outside of an aquatic environment.” “These,” Marlon declared, “are monsters.”

“They don’t seem very monstrous.”

“They’re babies,” he replied. “And I wouldn’t put my hand in there if I were you. They secrete a layer of acidic slime; it really burns. And it’ll eat a hole in your clothes.”

“Poor things.” Harmony placed her hand against the glass, and the two slimes immediately pressed themselves against it, as though pleading for help.

“Careful,” Gilbert Werner rasped, walking over to join them. He was a tall, thin man, with weathered features and stern eyes. “They’re highly aggressive little fiends. Are you kids looking to sign up for the Adventurer’s Guild? Action and adventure guaranteed. Plus you get to play with swords.” he gestured the display behind him, an array of sharp and shiny weapons.

“I’m already a member, pa,” Marlon explained. “Like, since I was seven. And Marnie’s leaving next week.”

“Well, what about your weedy friend? If he can even hold a sword.”

Jasper puffed out his chest and scowled. “Thanks for that Mister Werner,” he said. “But I’m more interested in demihumans – goblins and dwarves, and their kith and kin.” “You can call me Gil,” he replied. “We don’t stand for formalities here. Except for you,” he glared at Marlon. “Anyhow, there’s certainly scope for research into those. Did you know that there’s been recent signs of goblin activity in the northeast, beyond the Bluemire hills?”

“Really?” Jasper’s eyes gleamed. “Are their caves there?”

“He doesn’t believe in monsters, but he believes in goblins?” Harmony whispered to Marlon.

“Hey, if something definitely exists, you don’t need to believe in it. Do you believe in goats?”

“Well, duh,” she replied. “Of course. They’re real.”

“As are monsters. We have the slimes,” a gesture at their terrarium. “We have the mutant rock crabs.” He tapped the middle terrarium, making the large hermit crab inside slash out a claw at him.

“Oh come on, that’s just a giant crab. Nothing monstrous about that.” Well, aside from the fact it was the size of a basketball.

“And we have the dust sprites.” The third terrarium was filled with, what looked at first glance, like a bunch of furry black golf balls. When Marlon tapped the glass they burst into bouncing life, smearing a trail of soot across the inside of the glass.

“Are they what you get when you don’t vacuum behind your bed?” she asked. “I mean, Brenna leaves furballs just as large.”

He rolled his eyes. “They’re monsters,” he insisted, “and they’re real! Can you explain them with science?”

“Probably,” Harmony replied. “I mean, aside from the animated dust balls, the others are just unusual animals. I still say, they don’t look very monstrous.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “It would be too dangerous for pa to bring the real monsters here, what with all the kids around. Come on,” he leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Pa’ll talk Jasper’s ear off. He loves nothing more than someone who’ll listen to him – pity is, Caroline and I have heard all his stories. You wanna go see the fortune teller, or eat cotton candy until we throw up, or something like that? Or,” a wry grin, “we could ride the ferris wheel.”

“Nah,” she said. “Well my mom’ll kill me if I gorge on sticky sugar, and I’m not particularly fond of heights. I don’t believe anyone can actually tell the future, but it could still be fun – shall we try that one?”

There was a short queue outside the tent; Marlon left Harmony holding their place, and darted off and came back with a cone filled with caramelized nuts.

“Nuts are healthy, right?” 

She accepted them with a grin, tossing a couple into her mouth, crunching into their sweet, caramel goodness.

“So, what do you think your future will hold?” he asked.

“Well,” she replied, tracing her toe in the dirt. “I’m thinking, I’d really like to work with animals – did I tell you? Brenna had her kittens this morning. Three of them. I’m allowed to choose one, and my grandparents will keep her, and I can visit her in the holidays.” A sadder smile then. “I reckon I’ll be able to convince my parents to send me here for the Winter Star holidays. I think they’re planning to travel again – somewhere southern and warm. Mother can’t abide the cold.”

Laughter, as a couple of girls emerged from the tent. Caroline and Jodi.

“Hey lovebirds,” Caroline cooed, blowing a kiss at her brother. “Going in to find out what your destiny holds together? I can tell you that for free. You,” she pointed at Marlon, “will get bored of her in five minutes, then get all angsty about it, head into the mines, and end up, I dunno, losing some important body part to a monster.”

Harmony cringed. That had gone past sibling teasing and into plain cruelty. “Why would you say something like that?” she asked. “He’s your brother. Yoba, if I had a brother like him...”

“Hear that,” Marlon picked up when she faltered, his voice cold and calm, but Harmony could sense the tension humming in him, like a tightly coiled spring. “We’re friends – she’s the sister I wish I had. We’re not gonna get bored of each other. And as for you – what did she tell you?” Eyes narrowed, pinpointing her. “That you’d meet someone tall, dark, and handsome, I’ll bet.”

Jodi giggled, hid it behind her hand, but nodded at them and mouthed the words: “like totally!”

“I will meet someone tall, dark and handsome,” Caroline replied haughtily. “Perhaps I already have.”

“Like Rasmus.” He arched his eyebrows. “Oh, don’t think I haven’t noticed. Well, I’m afeared you’re about to be sorely disappointed.”

“What did she tell you?” Harmony asked Jodi, partly to try and dispel the growing tension, and also because she felt sorry for the other girl, always lurking in Caroline’s shadow.

Jodi looked momentarily surprised. “That I’d find happiness,” she said. “And settle into my place in the world.”

So very vague, the sort of thing that could apply to pretty much anyone. “Did she say what that place was?”

Jodi’s brow furrowed. “You know what, she never did. I think she, like, implied I’d get married and have kids. But, now, I’m not so sure.”

“And was Mister Tall, Dark and Handsome destined to make you happy?” Marlon asked Caroline. “Because, if I were telling fortunes, I’d definitely say, he’s gonna break your heart.”

“Oh, bite me,” she muttered, flipped him the bird and stormed off, Jodi tagging along behind her, ever the loyal lapdog.

“Totally bogus,” he said. “Yoba, she’s such a bitch. Sorry about that. And thanks for standing up for me. I don’t need you to fight my battles – especially not against her – but it felt nice.” He took her hand in his, thankfully it wasn’t too sweaty this time, and squeezed it, releasing it almost as quickly.

“Next,” the doorman called.

“You wanna go in alone, or together?”

Harmony considered it. “Alone,” she said. “If we go in together, then it’ll influence what she says. If we go in alone, she’s gonna have to figure it all out herself.” And there’s less chance of her embarrassing both of us.

He patted her on the shoulder. “Go get ‘em Marns.”


	8. Fortune

Incense flooded the room with a thick, cloying scent that made Harmony cough. She shuffled into the chair, and put the required fee on the table. The fortune teller was an older woman, shrouded in so many scarves that only part of her face was visible. Her ring-clad hand darted out, the money disappearing somewhere within her robes.

“Ah, now Madame Ophelia vill tell your fortune, young miss, using only ze palm of your hand. If you vould be so kind as to place your right hand upon ze table, vith palm upraised.” Her accent was thick, and blatantly fake.

Harmony obeyed. Tried not to wriggle as the woman’s long fingernails traced the creases in her hand and flexed her fingers, her touch delicate enough to tickle.

“You vill live for many years,” she said. “And you vill vork, vith ze nature.”

Welcome news, but not an unexpected prediction, Harmony thought, given there was dirt encrusted beneath her nails – she’d really need to clean them – and the fact that she was in the countryside.

“You are of generous temperament,” she continued. “And kind of ze heart. In love, however,” her fingers trailed along her hand. “Vell, I am afeared zere vill be no deep and abiding passionate love in your life. Zere vill be love, yes. Strong love, ze sort of love that vill make you complete. But ze passion, it vill not be.”

Oh for goodness sake, Harmony scolded the flicker of regret. It’s not like you actually wanted a passionate love affair. Even if you did believe in this nonsense. Which you don’t. Passionate love was for cheesy novels, usually with tragic consequences. Just look at Romeo and Juliet.

“Thank you,” she said. “Now, what are the winning lottery numbers?”

Madame Ophelia gave a most unlady-like snort. “I am afeared, zat I cannot tell you.” Her lips twitched into a smile. “Because I have no vish to share ze prize.”

“What did she say?” Marlon badgered her, as soon as he exited the tent. He looked slightly dazed, his hair ruffled – which meant he’d been nervously combing it with his fingers.

“Oh, the usual nonsense: love, happiness, a long life,” Harmony brushed it away. “Refused to give me the winning lottery numbers.”

“Yeah, me too,” he replied. “I mean, when I asked about the numbers. Commented that it was uncanny to get that question from two customers in a row.”

“What else did she tell you?”

“The usual,” he shrugged. “Success in business, you know. Which I guess in my case, means killing lots of monsters, or something?”

“Nothing about love?”

He refused to meet her eyes. “No,” he said. “Not until I asked,” added so quietly that Harmony almost couldn’t hear, and pretended she hadn’t.

Instead she barked a laugh. “Love was, like, all we really talked about. Like, just because I’m a girl I’m only interested in what dude I’m gonna marry. Sexist, if you ask me. Got any of those caramel nuts left?”

He thrust the cone into her hand, and she tipped the remaining crumbs down her throat, and cast a quick glance at her wrist watch. “Yoba, I’d better get back – you wanna come with?” She crushed the cone in her hand, and lobbed it into a nearby rubbish bin. Missed, and had to scurry after it and slam-dunk it.

“Nah,” he said. “I’d better get back too – rescue Jasper from Pa – or maybe rescue Pa from Jasper, we’ll see. You wanna take the slimes home with you? They’d, like totally, liven up your posh girls’ school. Maybe help you get expelled.”

“Tempting,” she replied. “But no.”

Her stomach ache was getting worse – probably the nuts hadn’t agreed with her. Too sweet, her mother would’ve said, and she ducked into one of the porta-loos. Found blood on her underwear. “Shit,” she breathed. What if the goat’s tiny, sharp hooves had ruptured something? Internal bleeding could kill you, right? She took a deep breath to calm her nerves – and regretted it immediately, since she was sitting on a portable toilet. 

“It’ll be alright,” she reassured herself. It wasn’t a lot of blood, and the bruising didn’t look any worse – had already started to turn a little green around the edges. That meant it was healing, right? She padded up some toilet paper, stuffed that in her underwear, in case there was more blood, and tugged on her trousers. Surely another hour or two wouldn’t hurt? She felt super self-conscious, waddled awkwardly back to the petting zoo, half worried that she’d be leaving a trail of blood-soaked paper behind her, and sat down quickly on a hay bale, next to the goat pen. The white goat had fallen asleep, and a couple of children sat beside Heather, combing her woolly coat.

Grandpa looked up from his book. “Are ye alright, love?” he asked.

She nodded, managed to croak out a, “Fine,” that didn’t sound fine in the slightest.

He hurried over to her side, draped his arm across her shoulders. “Did someone upset ye? Has that boy broken ye heart already?”

That made her laugh. “What, Marlon? Nay. We’re friends, that’s all.”

“Did someone else upset ye?”

She blinked back tears at his kindness. “No, grandpa. Honestly, I’m fine. Go and win the Grange Display.”

“Are ye absolutely sure?”

She was laughing now, laughing and crying – what an attractive combination. “Go on, book it already.”

“Book it?” His brow furrowed, and he shrugged. “Modern-speak again, aye?”

“Aye,” she agreed. 

He gave her a quick, but crushing, hug and hurried off. 

She sat for a few long moments, watching the piebald goat chew industriously on one of the hay bales, while the rabbits, in the pen one over, chased each other around in circles. A toddler, wearing blue overalls, so probably a boy, came waddling towards her, unsteadied himself on the edge of a hay bale and crashed to his bottom, screaming. Harmony glanced around, looking for his mother, but no-one appeared to be paying him any attention, so she knelt down beside him.

“Hello little guy,” she said, using much the same tone as she had when talking to the goat. “Did you take a wee tumble?”

He blinked at her, a super-serious expression of concentration on his chubby face, then held out his arms to her. She lifted him up into her arms, and shuffled her bottom back onto the hay bale. She’d never held a baby before, was amazed that he actually smelt rather pleasant, like soap and flowers. Probably more pleasant than she, truth be told. After approximately twenty seconds of being held, he began to wriggle, and insist that she set him back on the ground.

Luckily, at that point, a woman came rushing up to her. “Oh, thank Yoba,” she breathed, scooping him up so abruptly that he began to scream in protest. “Hush Clint,” she whispered into his golden-brown hair, until finally, he quietened. “Sorry, and thank you,” she said to Harmony. Her eyes were tired. “No-one prepares you for how fast they can move.” She heaved him up against her chest and carried him away.

Clint peered over his mother’s shoulder, and Harmony waved at him, was gratified when he performed a one-hand clap in response, and beamed at her.

“Cute kid.” Marlon remarked, sliding in beside her. “New friend?” He pushed a wrapped bundle into her hands. “I brought you a hotdog. Hope you’re okay with mustard and ketchup – I wasn’t sure, so I figured, why not get both? Your grandfather said you might need cheering up. What’s up?”

“I’m fine,” she replied. “Only, well, one of the goats kicked me yesterday, and it kinda hurts.”

He winced in sympathy, put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. “If you’re worried, you should get someone to look at it,” he said. “First time I went monster hunting alone in the mines, a slime got me pretty damn good.” He rolled up his sleeve, to reveal a well-muscled arm, and a large patch, pale against his otherwise fairly tanned skin. “Anyhow, I decided not to do tell my pa, staunched it out, and now I’ve got this totally bogus scar.”

“Bruises don’t scar,” she said, softly, and in such a tone that Marlon flinched and looked at her in surprise. 

“Marnie,” he whispered, squeezed her forearm gently. “Harmony. Did someone hurt you?”

His kindness was enough to make the tears flow. “Not a lot,” she whispered. “And not, like, it wasn’t abuse. It was just… just discipline. When I was younger and didn’t… didn’t do what I was told. Couldn’t sit still for hours. Couldn’t be the perfect child.” Her mother’s grip so hard that the nails bit into flesh, and her fingertips left a line of tiny bruises. “I wore long sleeves a lot,” she added.

He wrapped his arms around her, drew her head against her chest, and held her as, finally, she let herself cry.


	9. Only Women Bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harmony isn't feeling well - and her grandmother is making a big deal out of the most embarrassing things.  
> It's tough to be a teenager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not overly happy with the chapter title (mostly they're named after songs but I should probably find a better one). Anyhow, quite a fluffy/feel-good chapter this one. It made me smile writing it.
> 
> I also totally <3 teenage Marlon. Comment below if you do too :)  
> He's fun to write because he's so completely undeveloped in the core game (honestly, Marnie is somewhat underdeveloped too, we really know very little about her except that she loves animals and is never in her shop when we need her, and may or may not be related to Jas and/or Shane - it's a lot easier writing original fiction with the non-dateable NPCs.

“Och lass,” said her grandmother. “Didna fess, it isna internal bleeding, it’s ye monthly cycles. Harmony, yer’re a woman now.”

“Seriously.” Harmony thumped her hand against her forehead. She was so stupid! Why hadn’t she thought of that? But still… “They’re pretty impressive bruises though, aren’t they?”

“Aye,” her grandmother agreed. “Verra nasty. Now,” she continued, sounding stern, “ye can get pregnant, ye ken? Do I need to talk to ye about contraception? Taking precautions?”

“Grandma,” she groaned, tugging her pillow over her head. “Are we seriously about to have the Chat?”

“Well, yes,” she said. “I didna think Melanie will give it to ye, no?”

“She gave me a book,” Harmony returned. “On my eleventh birthday. In a brown paper bag. I read it, cover to cover – and even looked at all the illustrations. I think I’m good.”

“Well, if ye’ve any questions...”

“I’ll be sure to ask, yes.”

“Now, I suppose I’ll need to pop over to the general store and pick up the necessaries. Or I could give Lewis a call? See if he could deliver them over.”

“No way!” Harmony crawled onto the bed, pulled the pillow over her head.

Her grandmother laughed. “I’m teasing ye, ye ken – and the general store’s closed today anyway, festivals and all that. Well, in my day, we had to make do with a folded piece of cloth, and wash it in a bucket of water – kids today don’t know how lucky they are – anyway, I’ll rustle ye up something quick, on me faithful Singer.”

She started flicking through her pile of fabric offcuts, while Harmony curled herself up, around the growing, nagging throb of pain. She couldn’t hide the groan.

“Aye, it can hurt a wee bit. Heat helps. James!” she bellowed. “Can ye fill a hottie for the wee lassie? She’s got her first monthly bleed!”

Harmony wished the bed would swallow her up. “Seriously, gran!”

“Ye mother got her first at twelve,” her gran continued, remorselessly. “And mine came at age eleven. I ken your’s only took so long cos yer mother didna feed you proper. Cabbage water and cottage cheese.” She sighed. “Ain’t no food fit for a growing girl. Not a grown woman, neither. Gotta have flesh on yer bones, keep yer warm at winter, give ye some padding when ye man–” 

“Gran quit it!” She fumbled for her walkman, almost knocked it on the floor. “I don’t wanna hear this!”

“Hugs ye, was all I was gonna say lassie.” She chortled a laugh. “What color do ye want?”

“I don’t care!” 

“Lime green it is then. Never did find another use fer that. Might as well rustle up a couple while I’m at it.” Then conversation was drowned out by the hum of the sewing machine. A short while later, her grandfather padded in, and solemnly presented her with a hot water bottle, a glass of water, and a painkiller. She clutched the bottle to her chest, marveled at how it actually worked to draw the pain away. 

“Thanks,” she whispered. “Both of you. Thanks for...” Being better parents than my parents ever were. “… everything.”

*

Ginger Tom came to join her on the bed, snuggling up beneath her chin, as she delved deep into “The Color of Magic”. The story was ridiculous, but a definite distraction – even if it wasn’t really helping with her game mastery plotting. “What am I going to get them to do?” she asked Ginger Tom. He yawned, flashing his bright pink tongue. 

Rasmus liked puzzles to solve, and Marlon mostly seemed to be into killing things. Jasper, well, he was a wild card – she’d never seen him play as a character. Then again, he seemed interested in learning and studying stuff. Given the choice between healer and thief, he’d likely choose thief. So, puzzles to solve – a twist, that Rasmus would indubitably guess, but hopefully wouldn’t blab about – and some monsters to kill. Monsters – not demihumans or animals. Or, maybe not kill – if monsters were merely animals twisted by the Void, could they be healed?

And if that were possible, would the boys be canny enough to figure it out – or would they just kill everything tainted, and lose the game?

It would be an interesting test. She scrambled over, grabbed her notebook, and flicked through her box of mix tapes. What seemed a fitting choice? Eventually settled on, ‘songs to inspire and encourage’ and found herself humming along to Bowie’s “Heroes”.

* 

Bonnie Tyler crooning in her ears, Harmony made her way through the coop, collecting eggs. Her stomach felt less cramped today, and the bruises had paled into hideous green and yellow stains.

“It’ll help if ye keep active, ye ken,” her gran had suggested. Harmony hadn’t wanted to spend the day lying in bed anyway – not when she had a mere week left on the ranch. She needed to make the most of every moment.

She’d filled the basket, and Bonnie had finished the passionate chorus, when she felt a presence behind her. Turned around, and found Marlon grinning at her from the coop’s doorway.

“I thought you couldn’t sing,” he said, after she’d fumbled to stop the music.

“Didn’t sing,” she growled.

“Sounded like singing to me.” He covered the floor between them in a few swaggering strides. “Can’t blame you. How can you not sing along with Tyler. You ‘Holding Out for a Hero’, eh?”

She barked a laugh and looked around for something to throw, but she only had the eggs, and that would be an insult to the hens. “Why are you here?”

“Hi Marlon,” he said, in a mocking falsetto, “I’m so happy you found time in your busy schedule to pop by just to cheer me up.”

Harmony selected an egg from the basket, mimed throwing it at him. He retorted by stumbling back, shielding his face with one hand. His other, she noticed, he kept firmly behind his back. She returned the egg to the basket. “Marlon Werner,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Did you bring me a present?”

He laughed, drew his hand from behind his back and presented her with a rather sad looking bunch of wilted pink wildflowers. “Would’ve brought spangles,” he said, “but Missus Mullner caught me sniffing around the flower bed, and I don’t dare cross her – her cookies are just too damn good. And girls dig flowers, right?”

“Totally.” She grinned at him. “Come on, let’s go inside, I’ll put them in a vase.” No-one had ever given her flowers before – well, unless you counted the ones her mother had palmed off on her, from her many admirers.

He fell into step beside her. “What do you listen too? I mean, aside from Bonnie Tyler, obviously.”

“mix-tapes,” she said. “My parents have, like, a billion albums – vinyl mostly – so I copied my favorites onto cassettes. Hey, do you wanna see the kittens? We’re not ‘sposed to pick them up yet, but Brenna doesn’t mind if I pat them.”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Marlon remarked. “Animals trust you, Marns.”

They entered the house. Ginger Tom padded up to greet them, wrapping himself around Marlon’s legs and coating his trousers in ginger fur. Marlon crouched down to scratch between the cat’s tufted ears.

“What’s Magnus doing here?”

“Magnus?” Ginger Tom’s purr rumbled like a lawnmower. He stood on his hind-legs to ask for more attention.

“Yeah, Rasmus’s cat. He moved in with them when Rasmus was just a baby. Apparently his mom found the cat lying in the crib next to him, and almost had a heart attack.”

“Really?” Harmony regarded the cat. He stared back at her, his great amber eyes unblinking, almost challenging. “There’s no way this cat is fifteen years old.”

“Magnus?” Marlon called, and the Ginger Tom flicked his ears at him. “See, he knows his name.”

Well, weren’t all cats a little magical? Harmony regarded the cat a little suspicious; he merely purred and rubbed his fur off against her legs. “I’ll get a vase,” she said, and fetched a glass of water from the kitchen. With exaggerated care, she arranged the sweet peas and carried it into her bedroom. “You can come in,” she added, because Marlon hovered at the door, looking uncomfortable. “You’re not like a vampire or anything. You don’t need an invitation.”

He came in, drew out the desk chair and straddled it backwards, resting his chin on the back of it. “So, music’s real important to you?”

She shrugged. “I guess. I mean, musical family and all that. My dad plays guitar. Studio musician,” she added. “They met while working her first album. He’s no Satriani, but he’s totally dope. They tried me on the whole instrument gamut, but nothing stuck. Although I do play a pretty mean harmonica.” She handed him her box of cassettes, surprisingly unselfconscious. She’s barely knowing him two months, and already he felt like the best friend she’d ever had. She’d had friends at St. Helena’s, sure, but she never totally knew if they were interested in her because her mom was, like, a famous singer, and she’d been stabbed in the back by false friends more times than she could count. She hadn’t had any male friends since elementary school, but, so far, found them much less complicated. Well, except maybe for Rasmus. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him: that dark eyed gaze that made her feel, for a minute or two, as if she were the most interesting person in the room; that crooked smile that turned her knees to jello. But he’d dismissed her as ‘just a kid’ and dropped her – dropped all of them – for Lily without even a second thought.

“Eclectic taste,” Marlon said, drawing her from her thoughts. “I like the titles.” He held one between his fingers, ‘Songs of love and longing’.

“That’s all the totally sad, sappy, romantic stuff,” she said. “You wouldn’t like it.”

He rose his eyebrows. “Bit quick to judge there, Marns. Who’s to say I don’t mope around my room crooning away to ‘like a virgin’.” 

She laughed at the mental image. 

“No wait.” He laughed back. “That’s my sis. You ever wanna hear something depressing? She and Jodi do it as a totally lame duet. That, and that ‘girls just wanna have fun’ nonsense.”

She tossed a throw cushion at him, missed, and almost hit Ginger Tom. The cat yowled, flattened his ears, and darted from the room.

“I like that song. Well, what do you listen to?”

He waved his hand. “Heavy shit, you know. You wouldn’t like it: Maiden, Megadeth, Metallica.”

“Manowar?” she added. “Now who’s quick to judge?” She stabbed her finger at the cassette tape labeled ‘Angry music for a bad day’.

He drew it out, studied the back, and held up his hands in surrender. “Deep Purple, Judas Priest, Helloween. I stand corrected. You’re a dark horse, Marns.”

“You wanna listen to it? Gramps is out on with the sheep, and gran’s gone shopping, so I can crank it on the boom box.”

“Sure,” he said. “Sounds rad. But I dunno, does this count as a bad day?” He dodged another cushion, and she leaned over the edge of the bed, dragged out the tape deck. “We’d better take this into the kitchen,” she said. “Brenna’s in the closet, and I don’t wanna scare her and the kittens.”

“Can I see them?” he asked, tone surprisingly gentle.

“Sure.” She slid open the door. Brenna blinked up at them, her eyes large and round. Without any coaching, Marlon dropped to his knees, brought his hand, slowly, towards the mother cat. She arched her head forward, sniffed his hand, then licked his fingers.

“She likes me.” He grinned at Harmony. “See, I can learn patience. They’re so tiny.” He scratched Brenna’s head, but hesitated to touch the kittens.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, squeezing in beside him. “Just use your forefinger, gently, like this.” Traced her finger first over the back of his hand, then along the calico kitten. “This one’s my favorite,” she whispered. “I wish I could be here to see her grow up.” 

He backed away, stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I’ll keep an eye on her for you,” he said. “If you like. Shall we put the music on now?”

*

“Well,” her gran remarked, when she walked in on them, an hour-or-so later: Marlon playing air guitar on a frying pan, and Harmony screaming “Heavy! Heavy! Metal!” into the pepper grinder. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”


	10. Game Mastery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harmony runs her role-playing scenario, then it's time to say 'farewell' to Pelican Town until next summer...  
> But how can she let her new friends go?
> 
> Also, Harmony has her first kiss. Who do you think it's gonna be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of all my characters, Harmony is probably the one most like me. When I was her age (more-or-less), I too spent a lot of time playing D&D (or the equivalent) with a bunch of geeky guys. In retrospect, like with Harmony, any of them could have had a crush on me, and I would've been completely oblivious. 
> 
> This is a bittersweet chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

“The tavern air is grimy, and reeks of smoke,” Harmony began. “You guys are sitting around a table near the back. It’s a quiet night, so you all look up when the door opens, and a well-dressed man enters. He stops just inside the doorway, and glances around, then approaches you. When he gets nearer, you see that he seems to be a noble.

“Are you the heroes that cleaned out the Mirkmire caves?” he asks.

“Yeh,” Rasmodius replies. “What of it?”

“Well, I may just have another mission for you. May I sit?”

“Sure,” says Sir Edmund. 

Swift-finger, the dwarf thief – and most recent addition to the party – glares at him. “Do you really think we can trust this dude? I mean, look at that outfit.”

“I didn’t say we’re trusting him,” Sir Edmund returns in a whisper. “Merely invited him to sit. Now, shut thy mouth, or I’ll shut it for you.”

“Fine,” Swift-finger grumbles. “But you’re not the boss of me.” He thumbs his nose at the warrior.

“Children,” Rasmodius says with a sigh. “Pray, tell us of the mission.”

The stranger sits, coughs to clear his throat. “My name is Brandon Ravensheart. As you may well know, I am head of the Inventor’s Guild, in the nearby Kingdom of Highborough. But recently, something despicable has happened.”

“How much are you offering us?” Swift-finger interrupts. Sir Edmund grabs his arm, slams his hand over his mouth.

“Please, ignore the obnoxious knee-breaker,” he says.

“Hey!” Swift-finger draws out his ax, preparing to live up to the derogatory stereotype and break Sir Edmund’s knee.

Rasmodius, with a long-suffering groan, casts Freeze Time, and successfully freezes Swift-finger before the blow can land.

“Come on,” he says, “We can’t start a bar brawl before we’ve even heard what our quest is going to be.”

“It’s gonna be something lame,” Swift-finger complains. “I bet we have to save the day by hugging or something.”

“You’re frozen in time,” Rasmodius reminds him. “That means you can’t talk.”

“Totally bogus,” Swift-finger mutters.

“If you do not shut up,” Sir Edmund states, “I shall knock thee upon thy head and cast you into unconsciousness.”

Swift-finger crosses his arms – even though he’s frozen and shouldn’t move – and pouts.

“Anyway,” Brandon Ravensheart continues, ignoring the undignified interruption, “thieves broke into our work-rooms last night – and stole the components of our latest invention. Everything was taken, blueprints, as well as all five components – all that they left was this page of crude sketches.”

He places the parchment in front of the heroes.

“What does it do?” Rasmodius asks.

Ravensheart just smiles at him. “You are not required to know what it does – that is not part of the terms of employment. No, my wish is for you to find the components, and return them to my Guild. This is how much it will pay you.” He leans forward, and traces a number in the grime that smears the tabletop.

“That’s… quite a large number.” Swift-finger seems to no longer be frozen.

“A suspiciously high number,” Rasmodius mutters. “How can we know that you will be good for it.”

Ravensheart utters a belly-deep laugh. “We are the most prestigious Guild in the kingdom. Our coffers run deep indeed.”

“I could buy a sky fortress with that,” Swift-finger whispers.

“What do you want a sky fortress for?” Sir Edmund nudges him – hard – with his elbow, making Swift-finger spill his beer. “You’re a dwarf.”

“Stereotyping again,” Swift-finger mutters, and flips his swift finger at Sir Ed.

“We accept,” Rasmodius replies, ignoring his companions. “Tell us, do you know who has taken the parts, and where we might find them?”

“Indeed.” Ravensheart strokes his chin, and studies them intently. “Our forensic examination indicates that the culprits were… the goblins of Bluemire hills.”

“Goblins, really?” Jasper, aka Swift-finger, exclaimed. “I thought you said you were sick of dungeon crawls? So, now we’re going to run through some lair and kill everyone.”

Harmony gave him her most Ravensheart stare. “Oh ye of little faith,” she said. “Yes, I have discovered, it’s super-hard to write a game without a dungeon-crawl element, but why not give it a chance first?”

“After all,” Marlon interjected. “I believe it was the ‘kill everyone and take all the loot’ aspect that you,” a nod at Harmony, “actually objected to.”

“Precisely,” she gave him a smile. “Now, are you going to continue to cause trouble, or shall we start our trek to the Bluemire hills?”

“Don’t you think it feels a bit suspicious,” Rasmodius comments, an hour or so later, as the party huddle in a tiny chamber, patching their wounds, having successfully navigated the latest gauntlet of traps. He’s holding the third component, studying it intently. “That the drawings we’ve been given are so very crude compared to, I dunno, what the actual components look like?”

Sir Edmund rises an eyebrow. “It’s almost as though they’ve been made from the components, rather than the components made from them.”

“What I think is a bloody miracle,” Swift-finger comments, “is that you dudes haven’t killed a single goblin yet. What happened to Sir Edmund the brutal? Sir Edmund the cuddly, more like.”

Sir Edmund shrugs. “I’ll take that. I am impressed that we’ve managed to neutralize the threat with a manner of well-planned and orchestrated sleep spells though. I guess we can thank our wizard for that.”

Rasmodius grins. “Where are we?” he wonders. “What’s through the next door?”

It’s a library, of a sort, except, instead of books, the shelves are filled with, what appears to be, engraved stone eggs.

“This isn’t a typical dungeon,” Sir Edmund observes. “It’s far more sophisticated.”

Swift-finger sniggers. “Maybe it’s like, a university or something.”

Rasmodius stares at him, in amazement. “You know what, Swifty? I never thought I’d say this – but I think you might be correct. What if,” he strokes his beard, pondering, “what if the goblins never stole the components – what if, they actually invented the… device – and, instead of retrieving it, Ravensheart actually wants us to steal it so that he can take credit for it. Explains why he doesn’t actually know what it does.”

As he says those words, one of the stone eggs begins to glow.

*

“Very well,” Jasper sighed, leaning back on his chair two hours later. “I concur – you’re a dope game master. Yoba, I really thought those stone golems – or robots, whatever the Void they were – were gonna kick our asses.”

Harmony chugged a can of cola. Her throat felt dry from so much talking, and now a crushing relief descended upon her. She’d pulled it off. There’d been fluttering panic at various times throughout the scenario, as the characters behaved unpredictably, and she’d had to improvise furiously but, somehow, she’d managed.

“Yeah, I totally thought I was gonna be pancaked at the end.” Marlon sighed. “Luckily that golem missed with his attack – one more would’ve killed me.”

“Yes ... lucky.” Harmony hid her blush behind the screen. Well, the golem would have only just succeeded, and surely deserved a penalty for already missing one of its arms. Of course, she’d wanted Sir Edmund – or Sir Tedmund, as Swift-finger was calling him by the end – to survive. Swift-finger had just been lucky that she’d not rolled a critical success against him. 

“How many goblins did we actually kill, in the end?” Rasmus asked.

“Three,” Harmony replied. “There was that clumsy oaf that fell down the stairs when he was running away, that gung-ho librarian that tried to take out Sir Edmund with a fire poker, and,” she glared at Jasper, “that totally, absolutely, harmless scholar that Swift-finger killed because he’s a bloodthirsty assassin psychopath.”

Jasper shrugged. “Whatever. I thought he was a wizard. You made him sound like a wizard.”

“Well, I guess I’ll forgive you,” she said, “as long as you feel at least a little bit guilty.”

“As if.” He snorted. “So, you gonna run another one next week?” Jasper asked. “We’ve still gotta go and face that heinous Ravensheart poser.”

“Can’t,” Harmony said, feeling the regret leaden in her heart. As stressful as running the game had been, she’d really loved hanging out with these guys. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Going back to school.”

“That’s totally bogus,” Jasper muttered. “You might be a girl, but you’re pretty rad.”

“I didn’t think the two were mutually exclusive,” she said wryly. “Pretty sure girls are permitted to be rad.” A smile twitched across her lips. “And you might be a boy, but I kinda like you.” 

“Are we all going to hug now?” he asked. “I’m almost totally sure I’ll deal with it. As long as you don’t, like, cry on my shoulder or anything.”

She made a fist and mock-punched him in the shoulder instead.

“You can cry on my shoulder, if you like,” Rasmus said, in his low, sexy drawl.

“Dude,” Jasper scowled at him. “Quit hitting on her. She’s one of us. And–” He gave a, not particularly subtle, half-nod in Marlon’s direction.

Marlon said nothing, just eased back his chair and stood, then stalked out of the room. Marnie watched him go, figured he was just going to grab another cola.

“You should’ve told us sooner,” Jasper muttered. “We’d have thrown you a farewell party or something.”

“Oh, come on.” She began stuffing the dice back into the bag. “My golems totally kicked your asses. I reckon that’s the most rad farewell party I could’ve asked for.”

“You will be back though?” Rasmus said softly, but it was probably wishful thinking that he sounded both hopeful and sad.

“Maybe Winter Star, if I can. Otherwise, next summer. Probably.” 

“Well, that gives you almost an entire year to come up with a ton of scenarios for us,” Jasper said, shoving the rulebook and screen into his satchel. “I was getting a bit bored of G.M.ing anyway. Turns out playing is way more fun. So next week, Ras? Last game before school goes back.”

“I dunno,” Rasmus replied. “I guess. But it won’t be the same without Marn.” 

“Yeah, I ‘spose.” Jasper glanced at his watch. “Yoba,” he muttered. “I better get gone – Mom’ll skin me if I’m late for dinner. What time do you leave tomorrow, Marn? I’ll come, see you off and stuff.”

“Ten-thirty,” she replied. “From the bus station.”

“See you then.” He held his hand up, and she high-fived him, clasped his fingers in hers, then drew him into a hug. He suffered it entirely stiff-backed, but squeezed her fingers. “Take care, Marn.” He broke away, and departed with a wave.

Marlon still hadn’t come back. Was he going to leave without saying ‘goodbye’? She took a step towards the door, intending to look for him, when Rasmus closed the gap between them, and ran his fingers down her upper arm. His touch was like an electric shock down her body.

“I’m going to miss you,” he said, voice raw with emotion.

Harmony gulped. He smelled good – like spice and woodsmoke. She turned towards him. They were so close, their noses almost touching. “I’m going to miss you too,” she managed to choke out, felt breathless, her heart racing in her chest.

His hand moved up her arm, across her shoulder, and traced its way along her chin. “Marnie,” he whispered. “I really like you.”

“Me too,” she whispered. Felt heat flare across her face. Very attractive Marnie. “I mean, I really like you too.” She moved her hand hesitantly, touched his face, his cheek, ran her forefinger across his lips. Felt a faint thrill as they twitched into a smile. His hand moved, combing through her hair, then he cupped the back of her head with his palm. Lips moved closer, so that she was breathing his breath, and he hers.

His lips followed, brushed hers, and triggered an electric stab down her spine. Then, he kissed her properly, his lips warm and firm, and everything was weird and exciting, but also terrifying. What was she supposed to do? Something with her tongue? With her teeth? Shit, for all the books she’d read, why had none told her how to deal with this? Their noses bumped awkwardly and he broke the lip-lock, leaned towards her ear, and purred, “Something to remember me by.” 

Then, as casually as if this were the sort of thing he did every day (and maybe it was), and that he hadn’t sent her head and heart into a crazy, chaotic spiral, he gathered up his satchel and strode from the room, raising his hand in a farewell salute.

“Hey Marlon.” His voice rumbled from the next room. “Later dude.” She heard the door swing open and click shut once, then again.

It took her a few more minutes, and a goodly few deep breaths, to calm her roller-coasting heart, gather her backpack, and step out of the room. When she did, she found she was alone in the community center.

She took her jacket from the coat-rack and shrugged it on. Felt something lumpy in the pocket, drew it out. A cassette tape, and not one of hers – the insert was blank, but for five words, written with careful neatness: ‘Songs to annoy posh girls.’

*

“Take care, pet.” Her grandfather squeezed her tight, and kissed her on the forehead.

“You’re a wonderful, beautiful woman now,” her gran whispered. “Didna let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Harmony wiped back a tear, and hugged her grandmother. “Please look after Cyndi for me – and her brothers,” she whispered. “Next time I’ll see her, she’ll be a grown cat. Thank you so much, for everything. I’m gonna miss you like crazy, and think of you every day.

“And that goes for you two too.” She turned her attention to Rasmus and Jasper. A faint, sad smile danced on Rasmus’s lips. Jasper rocked from foot to foot, arms hugged around himself.

“Don’t forget us.” Rasmus wrapped his strong arms around her, and hugged her to his chest. Inhaled the woody spice of him.

“As if I could,” she whispered. Her lips still tingled with the memory of their kiss.

He released her, and Jasper stepped in to give her an awkward half-hug. “Gonna miss you dudette,” he said quietly.

Harmony sniffed back her tears. “I’m gonna miss you guys so much. You’re, like, the best friends I ever had.”

“Seriously?” Jasper’s eyes lit up in delight. “Well, we think you’re pretty wicked-awesome too, don’t we Ras.”

Rasmus nodded. “Indeed.” He winked at Harmony, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Where’s Marlon?” she asked him in a low voice.

He shrugged casually. “I guess he had other commitments.”

Harmony wrapped her fingers around the mix-tape he’d left for her. She hadn’t listened to it yet, planned to savor it on the bus trip. Her heart ached dully. She’d thought they were friends, yet he’d hadn’t even come to say ‘goodbye’.

Maybe he saw Rasmus kiss you. But that was ridiculous – what did he care about that? They were friends, right? Besides, it wasn’t like the kiss meant anything; she was plain and boring and ordinary and Rasmus was dark, mysterious and handsome; he deserved someone beautiful and fey, like Lily. 

The bus drew up, braking with a heavy sigh. She picked up her backpack, and walked up the steps. Hesitated at the top to wave to her family, and her new, dear, friends, then walked to the back of the nearly empty bus, found a seat.

And let the tears flow.


	11. Conversations Piece I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extractions from letters sent between Harmony Andrews, aka Marnie Stewart, and Marlon Werner, between Sep 1st 1987 and June 12th 1988.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written because I wanted to show what Harmony was up to and what was going on in the Valley between summers.
> 
> These were exceptionally fun to write. I especially enjoyed geeking out on the musical stuff. I was a teenage metal-head too - and listened to a lot of the mentioned songs/bands on Spotify while I was writing it.  
> Also, mixtapes were an extremely important part of my teen culture.
> 
> Please ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes in this chapter. I actually made some on purpose (since they are letters written by teenagers). Probably should have made more but couldn't quite bring myself to!

_Letter sent, Sept 14th, 1987_

“Hey Marlon…

First and most importantly: sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. I know you’re a boy, and therefore by default aren’t supposed to like soppy stuff, so you can skip this bit if you want to, but you guys really are the best friends I ever had, and I miss you all like crazy. I love the ranch, and I love P.T. and I love you guys very much.

Anyhow, soppy stuff over now, just needed to get it out.

Loving the mix-tape (esp. that ‘Prisoner of Your Eyes’ one – totally almost made me cry, first time I heard it. I know, I’m such a sap), but I’m afraid you’ll have to try harder if you wish to annoy my room-mate. Her name is Luci (yes, she spells it with an ‘i’). She insists it’s short for ‘Lucifer’ but I’m pretty sure she made that up. She wears, like, six crucifixes and at least three of them are upside-down, which pisses the Religious Studies teacher off no end, and doodles pentagrams on her arms when she’s bored in class. Which is pretty-much always. Her mother’s some sort of fashion designer – does like weird, goth stuff that Morticia Addams would wear. Did you ever watch the Addams Family? Anyhow, she said your tape was, like, ‘killer and totally hellacious’ and has let me make a copy of some of her stuff to send back to you. I don’t know if you’ll like it – but the guy that screams like a falsetto banshee one minute and growls like a demon from the Void the next is kinda funny… Pity me, for it is what I have to listen to every evening.

I expect she’ll be expelled by New Years.

… love Marnie, xx.”

_Letter dated Sept 22nd._

“Marnie,

Hope school is treating you okay. You talked a lot about your roomie, and not much about yourself. Ppl treating you okay? Have you see your mom?

And speaking of your roomie, she sounds totally rad. Her music tastes are heavy-as. That King Diamond guy is insane! Totally killer. With that in mind, I have enclosed a tape that I think shall annoy sufficiently. I had to raid C’s music collection to record it and she shall likely never forgive me. Small price to pay.

Please also find enclosed some photographs of the kittens. Cyndi (named for Lauper, right? Gag me with a spoon) is the smallest, but she’s clearly the boss. Mom said I can keep one, so the smaller ginger one (now Ozzy) will be moving in with us in a couple of weeks. We named the biggest one Garfield, for obv. reasons. He’s going to live in Fairview. Also, I’m sorry I didn’t see you off at the bus. I’d make some lame excuse about something coming up, but truth is, I hate goodbyes and I knew Ras and Jas (Ha, never realized how funny there names sounded together til I wrote it down. Maybe I should be Mas) were gonna be there.

And thanks for the soppy stuff. Don’t tell anyone – esp. not C. (I’d never live it down!) but I kinda like it. And I like you – you’re awesome and bodacious, Marn, and I miss you every day. Plus, like Jas really does suck as a GM (although Ras has now declared Rasmodius has become a pacifist and refuses to kill anything, which totally pisses Jas off). Hope to see you for the Winter Star!

… Marl xo.”

_October 3rd:_ “You were right with your musical taste assumptions. Luci has informed me that if I play ‘Walk Like an Egyptian’ one more time, she’ll move out. Retaliated by playing Venom so loudly that the windows vibrated and the teachers sent in a team to perform an exorcism. She’s in detention again. Apparently black metal is not acceptable for respectable young ladies. Either that or it’s because she was caught smoking clove cigarettes in the bathrooms. She’s such a cliché it’s hilarious.

Winter Star is a no-go, I’m afraid. Mother has been invited to some gala-thing and apparently I must attend. I think she is going to arrange a marriage between me and the host’s son – he’s a lawyer (the host, not the son) and I suspect she wants one of those in the family. The son’s like a total prep, his names Colin (gag!), and I suspect he’ll hate me on sight, so don’t stress about that.

Enclosed is a poem I had to write for English lit. It’s complete lame rubbish, but I think you might get a laugh out of it.

So, what’s school like in Stardew? How’s the gang? Tell J & R that they can write too.

… Love Marnie XX.”

_October 17th_

“… don’t marry the preppy-lawyer’s kid! He sounds like a total dweeb. Told J&R to write, so please find enclosed a letter from J. It’s like five lines long, and he’s too cheap to buy his own stamps. Don’t expect a letter from Ras anytime soon. He’s too busy with his wizardly studies (have you seen his trick with the paper cranes? It’s pretty rad). There’s been another ‘incident’ in the mines too – another collapse. One person trapped for a few hours, but they managed to get him out okay – thank Yoba. The gem yield is getting poorer too – there’s talk of shutting them down. And Pa says the Void is growing stronger. He’s trying to convince Alexander to move back – the valley needs it’s wizard, and Ras’s magic is still just cheap party tricks. There was a slime infestation in the western quadrant, but we got that under control pretty quick-smart. Please find enclosed a gemstone. It’s called a frozen tear, believed to be the petrified tear of a yeti – I have carved an ‘M’ on it so your roomie doesn’t steal it.

Offer to send you a couple of slimes still stands.

… Marlon XO.”

_October 31st_

“Sorry I haven’t written for a bit. Thanks heaps for the gemstone. It’s great. I drilled a hole in it during woodcraft class, and am wearing it around my neck. Feels like I’m carrying a little bit of the valley around with me. Be careful in the mines. Sounds pretty nasty. Don’t want you to get hurt. Ain’t like RPing when you can take a potion and heal your wounds. Also, I appreciate the offer of slimes, but suspect L. would be happy to keep them as pets. She’s been prepping for Spirit’s Eve all week (which mostly involves playing ‘creepy devil music’ super loud and burning incense – she set off the smoke alarms the other day, and the entire school had to evacuate. That was totally not fun. And she’s in detention again). The Harvest-dance is tonight, with the boys from St. Christopher’s. And you guys will be having your annual SE fest. I know where I’d rather be. Where I currently am is the library. It’s totally the best place to get some peace and quiet. Plus I’m pretty sure it’s haunted. You’d like it, it’s in, like the vaults beneath the school – St Helena’s is ancient, all old stone and crumbling towers. I’ve been searching it for secret passages, but so far, no luck.

Anyway, it’s the perfect place to spend Spirit’s Eve.

… M XX.

PS: after reading J’s 20-word opus, I’ve penned him an epic reply (32 words!). Please find it enclosed, if you could pass it onto him, that would be rad – I don’t know his address. Also, I hope his dad is OK. The mine stuff sounds scary.

PSS: PLEASE be careful in the mines. Cos, in case you hadn’t noticed, I kinda like you, and wouldn’t want you to get eaten by rock crabs or slimes or any other monster.”

_November 20th (written in a card depicting a fat ginger cat in a party hat)._

“Happy birthday Marnie! Sorry it’s late, but I didn’t know until your gran told my pa in the general shop yesterday. Sending this card because it looks like Ozzy. He’s now lording it over our house. Takes after his father. They’ve decided to keep the mines open for now, began blasting in the northern area, following a seam of diamonds. Pa says they’re just asking for trouble, but greed exceeds common sense, right?

Anyway, R&J say “hi” and send there birthday regards. J wrote a limerick, but it was filthy, so I threw it out.

… Marlon xo.”

_December 20th:_

“Belated thanks for the birthday wishes, and sending Winter Star wishes your way.

Catching the train tomorrow. First time I’ll have seen my parents in almost a year. Scary thought. Mom’s gonna hate how much I’ve changed. She’ll probably put me on her cabbage water diet. Again.

… Marnie XX.”

_December 26th, scrawled hastily on the back of a postcard showing a lamb in a field of daffodils._

“Hope the WS visit went okay. Whatever your mom says, remember that you’re good and kind and beautiful. 

Now who’s the sap?

M XO”

_January 3rd:_

“Thanks for the postcard. L didn’t go home for WS, so she saw it before me, and now keeps teasing me about my BF. (Actually, I don’t mind at all. Feel free to send me postcards with sappy messages whenever you like).

WS was OK. Colin not as dweebish as feared (but also a total stoner, and stunk of weed, so there’s that). Spent evening talking about books. He’s a big Kerouac fan. I’m not. Arguments ensued. It wasn’t pretty. 

No cabbage water, but forced to eat salad. Ugh.

… M xo”

_What then follows is two months of postcards, depicting suitably pastoral scenes, and increasingly nauseating messages._

_March 14th:_

“L is now asking when the wedding is – so good work. She pinned a copy of the last one, the ‘ode to the one I love’ to the message board downstairs. Stayed there for a couple of days, before the teachers noticed and tore it down. Bit R-rated for a posh all-girls school. Thankfully still have the original. Will cherish it forever.”

_March 20th:_

“… The Ode was a mistake. Got a little carried away (may have picked up one of Cs cheesy romance novels and read it for inspiration). Please burn it.”

_March 30th:_

“… No. Future ransom material, for when you get married. Hah.”

_April 14th:_

“Do you want ‘us’ to break up on the back of a postcard? Because that’s what I’m gonna do, if you don’t burn that Ode.”

_April 21st:_

“Harsh words – do your worst.

Sad news though – Lucie’s gone. Not even expelled – her father got sick, like super-on-the-edge-of-his-death-bed sick so she’s gone home to be with him. Place seems too quiet now. Plus side, room to myself. Downside, no longer get to listen to the glorious melodies of Bathory and Venom. Second thought, there’s no downside.

One month to go. I’m counting down the days (67) ‘til I get back to PT. Grandparents are insisting they need me to help with the sheep, now that they’re getting older and all that. Think parents convinced. You guys still doing the Monsters & Mayhem thing? I haven’t had much time to think about it – turns out being a sophomore is pretty intense – but I’ll have a poke through the library here for inspiration. There’s some pretty good ancient history texts.

… love Marnie xx.”

_May 1st:_

“Flower dance today. Ugh. Hate dancing. Think I have two left feet. Got paired with Clarissa and must’ve stomped on her toes like twenty times. Poor girl. Caroline nabbed Rasmus (Lily hasn’t been seen outside Darkhaven since the Fair, but Rasmus assures me she’s OK). Anyway, dude danced like a freaking champ and Caroline wore a shit-eating grin for the entire day. 

Don’t worry too much about the game. We’ve hardly played since school started. Rasmus is either practicing his magic or sneaking into Darkhaven, and Jasper – get this! – has started dating. Yep. Our little Jas has got himself a girlfriend. Her names Emma, and her father’s also a miner, so I guess they have a lot to talk about. It’s actually kinda adorable, in a dorky way (adorkable, is that a word?). Like, geeks in love. Plus, with the monsters in the mine getting worse (couple of the mutated bats got out last week, terrorized some campers by the lake), I’m kinda living the game a bit too much in RL (real life).

Have considered it, but decided not to break “us” up via postcard. Esp since now no longer crazy goth roomie to torment. Hope her dad’s OK. Keep the Ode if you must – I’m not planning on getting married anytime soon. Plus, I kinda like ‘us’.

… Marlon XO.

PS: please find enclosed a tape of heavy, angry stuff for when you begin to miss your roomie.”

_May 20th:_

“… You call that music? It sounds like someone trying to regurgitate their internal organs down the microphone while the band play their instruments as fast as they possibly can, with complete disregard for melody...”

_May 27th:_

“… it’s called Thrash Metal. Isn’t it killer?”

_June 2nd:_

“No.

Hey, Gramps has booked my bus ticket for the 27th. It’s a Saturday. And it’ll arrive around 12.30.

So very, very forward to looking forward to seeing you again, and catching up with (almost) an entire years worth of goss.

… love Marnie XO.”

_June 12th:_

“I’ll be waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be forewarned, the next installment: 1988, is when things start to get darker.


	12. Summer of '88

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer vacation rolls around again, and Harmony returns to Pelican Town.   
> But will things be the same?

“Marnie!” Jasper ran up to Harmony, the moment she stepped off the bus, and wrapped his arms around her in a crushing hug. She pushed him away, laughing.

“What’s got into you, Jas?” she asked. He’d grown an inch or two, and was that a hint of stubble on his chin? “A year ago you’d barely let me hug you!”

He stepped back, grinning at her in undisguised delight. “A year ago, I wasn’t in love,” he said, gestured at a girl standing in the shadow of a maple tree. “This is Emma.”

She waved shyly. She was pretty, with proper womanly curves, bronze skin, and a copper gleam to her dark hair. “Hi,” she said. Jasper stepped back, threaded his fingers though hers.

Marlon sauntered up in a casual manner, but there was a spring to his step. He’d grown taller too, and bulked out a bit, but his hair was no less blond and no less messy. He moved with a cautious shyness that was both endearing and a little odd, given the frequency and familiarity in which they’d exchanged letters. But, Harmony knew, it was easier to communicate in writing than eye-to-eye.

“You’re wearing the tear,” he said, gesturing at the crystal that hang about her throat. “I’m pleased.”

She ignored his outstretched hand, and flung her arms around him instead. He laughed, squeezed her, and patted her back. 

“It’s good to see you,” she said. “You look good.” He smelled good too, like soap and leather.

He laughed, a deeper sound than she’d remembered it. “You too,” he said with a crooked smile. He indicated her body with one hand.

“I know,” she said wryly. “I got fat. Blame the good cafeteria food. Plus my love of pasta and dislike of salads.”

“No,” he said. “And you’re not fat. You’re just… more you.” He shrugged, shuffled his feet awkwardly. “More like the you you’re meant to be? I guess.” 

“Dude, that’s like, a terrible compliment,” Jasper laughed. “What he’s trying to say is, it suits you. You’re like totally bodacious.” Emma cuffed him on the arm, and he laughed. “Well, obviously not as bodacious as you, babe.” He kissed her. “You’re babe-acious.” 

The other two found something fascinating to stare at in the other direction. “Is he always like this?” Harmony whispered.

Marlon unleashed a (definitely feigned) long-suffering sigh. “I’m afraid so. Would you like me to walk you to the ranch?”

“Please.” This time she wasn’t surprised that her grandparents hadn’t come to meet her – they knew her friends were meeting her at the bus stop. It also didn’t surprise her that Rasmus wasn’t there; he was probably off either studying or hanging out with Lily. She decided it was probably wisest not to bring up his absence. “Can we walk through Darkhaven?”

His laugh came as a low, deep rumble. “No. Some things have changed – but Jenkins isn’t one of them.” A shake of his head. “Seriously, Ras is gonna get himself shot one day, when he sneaks in to see Lily. Have you got any bags?”

“Just this one.” A larger duffel bag – a Winter Star gift from her father – the My Little Pony one now retired to Goodwill. 

He hefted it onto his shoulder. “I’ve got it.”

She grinned at him, squeezed his – actually, fairly impressive – bicep. “So manly.” 

“Try swinging a sword for a few hours every day and see what it does for you,” he said. “Pa has me practice with both left and right hands. Ambidexterity is what helps you survive, in the monster hunting business.” 

“I like it,” she said, then waved at the other two. “See you later, Jas.” They were still snogging beneath the maple tree. “Nice to meet you Emma!”

“Likewise!” she broke away long enough to call back. 

The city square still looked much the same. The general store shone fresh and bright, with a new layer of paint, and the flowers in the square gardens were a rainbow of summer spangles.

“Hey Marl,” Clarissa called out, jogging over to join them. She was wearing extremely short denim shorts, displaying her long, lean, tanned legs to their full advantage. Above them, her short blouse had been tied into a knot, to reveal her tanned and flawless stomach. She nodded at Harmony. “Welcome back. Um, Harmony?” A tentative inquiry. Harmony shrugged. “I’d rather be Marnie, while I’m here. Marnie Stewart.” 

Clarissa nodded. “Welcome back, Marnie.” Then her dazzling smile turned onto Marlon. “So, you still on for meeting up at the beach later?”

His lazy smile might not be quite as knee-weakening as Rasmus’s, but it wasn’t without power. “Sure.” A glance at Harmony. “You wanna come?”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” she said. A foolish oversight, given they were now headed into the heat of summer. Last years would no longer fit anyway – she was no longer the skinny twig she’d once been.

Clarissa measured her up with her eyes. “You might find something at the General Store – or shorts and a tee. You’ve got those, right?”

“Of course,” Harmony replied.

“Cool bananas. See you both at six then? Bonfire beach party!” She turned on her sandaled heels and sauntered away with a swing of her hips.

“Enjoying the view?” Harmony teased, as Marlon’s eyes followed her appreciably. 

He drew them away and frowned at her. “Are you okay?” he asked, softly.

All of her peers seemed to have somehow matured into beings, more beautiful. It had been less than a year, but it felt much longer. Beside Marlon’s lean, blond gorgeousness, Harmony couldn’t help feel dowdy and dumpy. It seemed so unfair that she’d somehow managed to go from spindly and unattractive to fat and unattractive. Surely there should’ve been a middle ground between the two?

“I’m fine,” she replied. “Just tired. I’m super pleased to see you.” Stop being jealous, she scolded herself. Just because you’re friends doesn’t mean he isn’t allowed to be handsome.

“Good.” He rewarded her with a toothy grin. “Because, for a moment there, I thought you were wishing yourself back in your library dungeon, buried amongst walls of books.” He draped his free arm over her shoulders. “Come along now, Marnie Stewart, let’s get you to settled into your proper home.”

Whiskey and Scotch greeted them energetically, leaping and licking, the enthusiasm in their tails making their entire bodies wag. “Down boys, down,” Marlon laughed, trying to shove Whiskey away.

“They’ve got to know you,” she commented.

“No duh,” he said. “I told you I’d keep an eye on Cyndi, right – I’ve been over here at least once a week.” He lowered his voice. “Been helping James – your grandfather – on the farm. He won’t make a deal about it, but he’s got arthritis in his knees, and his back’s not too good either.”

“They’re gonna have to retire soon,” she said, tears prickling in her eyes. “And then they’re gonna have to sell the ranch. Mom certainly doesn’t want it, and it’s not like she has any brothers or sisters.”

“Do you want it?” Marlon asked. He set her bag down on the front porch and rapped his knuckles on the door.

“Duh,” she replied. “But I’m not even sixteen yet. I can’t run a ranch.”

“But later? I mean, have you thought about what you want to do with your life, Marnie Stewart?”

“When I finish school, I want to do a course on animal care,” she said. “Probably not a vet, cos I hear that’s one of the most stressful jobs in the world, but maybe just, I dunno, run my own little farmlet – you know, like a mini-farm – for the animals nobody else wants.” She’d put quite a lot of thought into it, over the last year. “What?” He was staring at her, a funny look in his storm-gray eyes.

“Marnie Stewart,” he said. “I believe you are possibly the kindest and most compassionate person that I have ever met.”

And, as if to punctuate the pleasurable warmth that swelled through her, the door opened, and her grandfather swept her up in a bear-hug.

“Harmony!” he bellowed. “You’ve fledged into a fine woman.”

“Come in, come in!” Her grandmother’s voice called from the recesses of the house. Her grandfather released her, gestured her in.

“You too, lad,” he added. “Just leave the bag on the floor.”

Her bag instantly became the focus of attention for two cats: fluffy black Brenna, looking far plumper than she had last year, and a smaller, sleeker – but still very fluffy – calico. “Cyndi!” The cat flinched a little as Harmony crouched down beside her, tip of her tail flicking as she tried to figure out who this enthusiastic stranger was. She crept forward, tentatively sniffed Harmony’s fingers, before brushing her head up against the offered hand. Harmony scratched her cat’s cheek, was gratified by a ragged purr. “You’re beautiful,” Harmony whispered to her.

“Aye, that she is,” Marlon agreed, doing a fairly decent rendition of her grandfather’s accent. “I’ve been reading her your letters,” he said. “So she gets to know you. Silly, I know.” “I think it’s sweet,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. “The monster hunter has a soft side.”

“Well, duh,” Marlon said, his face coloring a little. “I’d best let you get settled in.” 

“Ye willna stay fer a cup of tea?” her grandmother asked. “A slice of cake?”

“Nay,” he replied. “I suspect you’ve got loads to catch up about, and pa and I have a duggy nest to clean out. The nasty buggers have ruined the McDougall’s melon farm. I’ll see you at six, Marn? At the beach?”

She nodded, felt faintly disappointed when he left. 

“Nice lad,” her grandma commented. She opened the fridge, carefully took out a platter and set it on the table. “But he works too hard. The pest control business seems to be presently in high demand.”

“Pest control?” Well, she supposed that was one name for it.

“Aye.” Gran looked confused. “He didna tell ye about his father’s business?”

“Oh, aye,” she replied. “I know. Is that pink cake?”

“Aye. Your favorite.”

Her grandparents sat at the table with her, drank tea, ate cake and grilled her about school, about her mother. Mentioned, briefly, her friends. 

“We’re selling some of the land,” her grandfather suddenly dropped into conversation.

“What, why?” Of course, Harmony could guess why.

“The Stardew Valley Council’s offered to buy a fair chunk of Cindersap off us – to turn it into a conservation park. There’s some sort of animal living here that didna live anywhere else. I didna ken what, as we’ve farmed here for fifty-plus years, and havena seen anything but squirrels and rabbits and birds, and the occasional raccoon or fox. But, they’ve offered us a fair deal, and well, we are no getting any younger.”

“We’re going to sell most of the sheep,” her grandmother injected. “Just keep a few head for wool and cheese. Rotate them around the house paddocks. And keep the chickens, of course.”

“Yer friend’s offered to buy the watchtower.”

“My friend?”

“Aye, the tall dark one.”

“Rasmus?” Why did he want the watchtower? It was a crumbling ruin atop a fairly treacherous cliff, long abandoned and overtaken by nature. “How?” 

“Well, he canna legally purchase it until he turns eighteen, ye ken, but apparently he’s inherited some money. He’s offered to pay for us to get it fixed up, make it – well, habitable, I guess – on the understanding that he’ll buy it from us next year.”

“Are you going to do it?” 

“We’d be fools not to,” her grandfather said. “Given he’s made a very lucrative offer for something we canna afford to do anything with. But the real question is, do ye want him as your neighbor? I know he’s ye friend, but the lad’s getting himself a bit of a reputation.”

“The same reputation that had his father leaving town,” her grandmother added.

“You knew Roland Alexander was his father?”

“Och aye,” her grandfather chuckled. “Ye’d have to be a fool not to see the resemblance ‘tween the two of them. Also, it was a wee bit of a scandal at the time.” 

“Wait,” Harmony’s mind was running a mile a minute, and backtracking furiously. “You said, my neighbor?”

“Aye, of course,” her grandfather beamed at her. “Who else are we gonna leave the ranch to? That is, if ye want it?”

Harmony fought back the excitement. Could she run a ranch?

“It’d be quite a bit smaller,” her gran continued. “And, I imagine, not particularly profitable, but ye’d be comfortable, if no’ rich.”

“And we are no leaving yet!” her grandfather exclaimed. “So didna get too excited. There’s another six or seven years of ranching left in us. So, what do ye say? And ye didna need answer now – I realize it’s pretty heavy stuff fer a fifteen-year old to deal with.”

“Yes!” she shrieked, running around the table to hug them both in turn. “Yes to I’d love to inherit the ranch, and also yes, I’m okay with being neighbors with Rasmus.”

“Aye, good.” Her grandfather smothered her in a powerful hug. “Cos it would have been a real shame to have to sell out to Jenkins.”


	13. Beach Party

“They’re gonna leave me the ranch!” Harmony cried, running up to Marlon’s tall, blond form. Faltered, when she saw Clarissa’s more delicate form, beside him. She’d traded in the short denim shorts and knotted top for a skimpy, and yes, very sexy, deep red bikini; Marlon was rubbing some sort of cream onto her shoulders – despite the fact that it was six at night, and the sun hung fairly low in the sky. He glanced at her, and the smile he turned on her looked genuine, even though she immediately felt like she was interrupting a private moment.

In the shallows, Caroline, clad in an equally skimpy bright green bikini, splashed water at Jodi (in a one-piece) and Robin (also a bikini, but one that covered marginally more skin). “Hi,” Marlon rumbled. And she tried not to notice – unsuccessfully – that he was clad only in (thankfully quite long) board-shorts, and that his tanned and muscular body sported an array of fine white scars, including a couple of bruises around his shoulder area that may have – but probably hadn’t – been caused by some sort of Void-tainted monster. No, Harmony wasn’t that naive.

“I’m going to inherit the ranch,” she repeated, quieter and calmer. She felt over-dressed, in the long t-shirt she’d hung over her least favorite bra and the pair of bike shorts that she slept in. Couldn’t resist asking, “Why are you wearing sunscreen?”

Clarissa flashed her a million-dollar smile. “It’s not sunscreen,” she said. “My skin is sensitive, and seawater can bring me out in a terrible rash. So, lovely Marlon here,” she turned and kissed him on the cheek, “kindly agreed to help me apply it.”

Marlon appeared to have lost his ability to talk, and his cheeks were flushed an unholy shade of red. She kissed him again, another quick peck on the lips, and ran off to join her friends in the water. A moment later a couple of other boys ran across the beach to join them, flinging themselves into the water, with much splashing and hilarity.

Further along, Jasper and Emma were piling up logs, along with another boy. It took Harmony a few heartbeats to realize it was Rasmus.

Unlike Marlon and Jasper, who’d matured and grown over the last year, Rasmus looked… well, drained. He seemed pale, and skinny in his long board shorts. Not the sort of lean not-quite-grown-into-his skin kind of skinny that was Jasper. No, you could almost count his ribs and his hipbones jutted over the edge of his low slung-shorts like handlebars. He looked like one of those kids she’d seen on TV a few years back, raising awareness of the famine in Ethiopia.

“Shit,” Harmony breathed. “Do you think Lily really is a succubus? Like,” she swallowed, “sexing him to death.”

Marlon rested his hand on her shoulder. “I think it’s the magic,” he whispered, and she could hear the concern in his voice. “It’s draining him. He’s pouring too much energy into it, and there’s no-one to guide him. Or, I guess, make sure he actually eats enough to fuel it.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You should see his arms, they’re literally covered in cuts. He’s like a drug addict, Marns, except that magic’s his drug. And I don’t know how to save him. Please,” his eyes are filled with hopeful desperation, “can you talk to him. Help him? He might listen to you.”

Harmony feels his pain like a stab in the chest. How can she help Rasmus? She’s just a kid – why would he even listen to her? But Marlon looks so forlorn, and Rasmus so sickly. She gives a short, fast nod. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you.” He wrapped her in a hug and pressed his lips against her forehead. His eyes glistened with tears when he drew away.

“Hi Ras,” she walked up to stand beside him. 

He greeted her with a smile warm enough to melt butter. “Hello Marnie,” he rumbled. His voice had deepened, was huskier. Within the year, all the boys she’d known had become men. “How’s things?”

He was so thin. Harmony fought the urge to run her hands over the curve of his all-too obvious ribs. Marlon had been right about the scars. Short, white scratches marred his left arm from shoulder to wrist, some almost invisible against his pale skin, others red and raw. They were across his chest too.

“Oh Rasmus,” she whispered. “What have you done to yourself?”

“It’s the magic,” he returned. “You don’t understand Marnie. I... I can feel it, crawling beneath my skin. It wants me to use it. To control it.” His eyes gleamed with dark desperation. “Are you eating?” her voice low, a glance at Emma and Jasper, but those two were oblivious to everyone except each other.

He saw her glance, said wryly, “Our little Jasper is all grown up.”

“Don’t try and change the subject,” she growled, was surprised at how fierce she sounded. So fierce, in fact that Rasmus jerked as if she’d slapped him. He tried to soften her mood with another of those crooked smiles. But she wasn’t having any of it. “Are you eating?”

A half shrug. “Sometimes. When I remember.”

She grabbed his arm. Yoba, he really was all skin and bone. “Come on then. We’re going to the saloon, and I’m going to buy you the biggest pizza I can afford – and watch you eat every last bite of it.”

“But the party.” His sweeping gesture indicated the beach, and the other kids splashing in the surf. 

“Will still be here when we get back.”

“Go on dude, never turn down free food!” Jasper shouted his support. “Especially not when a babe’s buying.”

“See?” Harmony replied, feeling her face flush at the word ‘Babe’. What had gotten into Jasper? 

Rasmus relented. “Oh, very well. But I want all the meats.”

The gratitude in Marlon’s expression warmed her heart. “Do you want to come with us?” she asked him.

His answer was interrupted by Clarissa, skipping out of the water to grab Marlon by the hand. “Come on Marl, come on in – the water’s wonderful!”

His face split into a grin. He said, “I’ll be with you in a minute,” to Clarissa then turned to Harmony, “I’m good. You’ll come back later?”

“Course,” she said, as Rasmus tugged on a t-shirt. It made him look like a scarecrow.

“Cool, cos we’ve got fireworks and s’mores. Now, come on!” Clarissa grabbed Marlon by the hand and dragged him into the water.

“Are they an item?” Harmony asked.

Rasmus crooked his smile at her. “Why, dear Marnie, is that a hint of jealousy I hear in your voice?”

She cuffed him on the arm. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Then wondered, Am I? Dismissed the thought with a laugh. She totally shouldn’t be jealous if one of her best friends was happy. “Clarisaa seems quite sweet.” 

They settled into a booth at the Stardrop Saloon, and Harmony went to the bar to sweet-talk Gus, the fresh-faced bartender, to let her have a gigantic meat-lovers pizza – and a single wedge (of vegetarian) for her – on credit, since she’d not brought any money with her. 

“No problem, love,” he said. “Just drop in the cash tomorrow – and a dozen fresh eggs – and I’ll throw in a bowl of fries for free.”

While they waited for their food, they chatted amicably: about school, he caught Harmony up on the SDV High gossip, and she filled in the details over the last year.

“Seriously, Marlon sent you like a dozen sappy postcards?”

“I know right? The last one was downright filthy.” She leaned forward and whispered her favorite line to him. Rasmus hooted with laughter and leaned back so far he almost tilted his chair over. “Yoba, who would’ve thought our prim and proper warrior would have such a filthy mind.”

Harmony’s face felt like it was burning up. Perhaps she shouldn’t have shared Marlon’s poetry with his best friend – at the school, he’d been an anonymous entity, but here... “Please don’t tell him I told you about it.”

“Damn,” Rasmus muttered. “And here I was, planning all sorts of nasty blackmail, but you had to give me those bloody puppy-dog eyes.” He leaned over, planted a kiss upon her nose. “Of course I’ll keep your secret, Marn.”

“Good evening Harmony,” a voice interrupted them. Lewis, looking like he just stepped out of a rural fashion catalog. “Back for the summer?”

Harmony smiled at him. “Yes,” she replied. They fumbled through polite small-talk (“How are your grandparents?”, ‘What are your plans for the summer?”) for a few minutes, until their pizza arrived, and he moved on.

“He’s such a poser,” Rasmus muttered, with surprising venom in his voice. He took a slice of his pizza, and practically inhaled it. “This is good Marn,” muttered through a mouthful. “Fuuuuck.” A low purr of pleasure. “I’d forgotten how hungry I was.”

“You need to remember to eat,” she said sternly.

“Yes mom,” he said with a sigh, inhaling his second piece.

She put her hand on his right hand, which lay flat on the tabletop, and traced her fingers over the multitude of tiny scars.

“Oh Rasmus,” she whispered.

A spasm past through him, as though she’d physically hurt him. His dark eyes locked on her, burning and brightly intense. Harmony almost felt like she was falling into them. She forced herself to hold his gaze, to not blink. 

“Seriously,” she said, steel in her tone.

He broke away first. “Okay, fine. As long as you buy me a pizza every Friday. And no tiny, girly pizza either – I want a pizza fit for a man.” He gestured at the meaty monstrosity laid before them.

“Deal,” she said. They shook on it. He brought her hand to his lips, and kissed her knuckles. She remembered how his lips had felt on hers – a memory she’d relived many times since, especially late at night in her room, while Luci blasted Black Sabbath at full volume (‘The Wizard’ always made her think of him). Wondered if she’d ever kiss him again. Barely suppressed a shiver of anticipation.

“Thank you,” he whispered, a rawness in his throat that made her wonder if he reciprocated her crush, at least a little. “Thank you for coming back.” Gave a small laugh. “You’re our healer, our heart, Marn.”


	14. Set the World on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disaster strikes.

A sky-rocket whistled to the moon, and exploded in a star-burst of color, heralded by cheers and hoots. Another followed soon after. His hand clasped in hers, laughing with delight at the spectacle, Harmony dragged Rasmus towards the beach. She made a beeline towards Marlon. He stood near the bonfire, one arm curled around Clarissa; she had nestled into his chest. Fit perfectly beneath his chin. He greeted her with a smile, Rasmus with a nod. Above the sky exploded in another eruption of color.

“This summer is gonna be so totally rad,” Clarissa declared. 

Rasmus squeezed Harmony’s hand and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Come on.” The low vibration of his voice sent a thrill down her spine. “The ‘works will look much better, away from the fire.” Harmony cast a glance at Marlon, squirming as Clarissa tickled him. She was still wearing her bikini top, a towel wrapped loosely around her waist. “Don’t worry about him.” His lips twitched into a mischievous smile. “I doubt they’ll even notice.”

Harmony nodded, felt a stab of excitement, and let Rasmus guide her away from the crowd, across to the wharf. The boards creaked beneath them. It was stiller here, peaceful, just the sound of the waves lapping against the support beams.

“What about Lily?” she asked. “Aren’t you... and she...?”

He shook his head. “It’s over,” he rumbled in her ear. “She’s... She’s not you, Marn.”

Yoba, how her heart raced. The velvet warmth of the night encircled them, the stars spread above in a glorious tapestry. Rasmus turned to her, eyes dark with hunger, pupils dilated. “You fucking haunt my dreams, Marnie Stewart.” His voice was a low rasp, husky with lust. She shivered at the raw emotion in his words. “I want to kiss you again. May I?”

She answered him by leaning forward and – so daring! – placing a gentle, chaste kiss upon his lips. He laughed, then pounced, wrapping his arms around her. His kiss was all raw passion and greedy need. 

Fireworks erupted above them in a spray of light.

As if in answer, off in the distance, a stark white light flashed across the skyline. Harmony broke away, blinking, her retinas burning in the afterglow. A long, low BOOM that rolled across the ground, less of a sound and more of a force. The wooden planks shivered beneath her feet, then jerked sharply. She stumbled, squeaked in fear. 

“Earthquake!” she gasped. Rasmus’s thin arms tightened about her, held her safe.

It was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Shrieks from the beach turned to shaky laughter.

“That wasn’t at earthquake,” Rasmus whispered into her hair.

The piercing howl of a siren split the air. Sunset burned in orange and gold off to the east – but the sun had already set, and the horizon was on fire. “It’s a goddamn explosion. The mine’s blown up! Come on!” 

He bolted from the wharf, Harmony pounding after him. Chaos on the beach. A couple of the kids were crying, and Marlon was trying, rather in vain, to comfort a sobbing Clarissa. “It’ll be alright, won’t it?” Harmony managed to gasp out as she reached him. “Don’t they knock off work in the evening?”

Marlon shook his head, Clarissa cradled against her chest. “Not at the moment,” he said. “They’re weren’t making quota – so they increased the shift work. There are teams in there 24-fucking-7.”

“My dad,” Clarisse whispered.

“Shit,” Harmony muttered. “We have to go and help! They’re gonna need... blankets and water and... fuck...”

“Mining tools,” Marlon finished. “An explosion that big, people are going to be trapped – shit. Jasper!”

The young man skidded to a stop, and hovered, shifting from foot to foot beside them. “My dad’s in the mine!” he gasped, fear shrilling his voice. “I’ve gotta go.”

“I’m coming with you.” Emma sounded frightened, but determined. 

“What can we do?” Harmony could feel the hopelessness overflowing. Blinked back the tears – they wouldn’t help anyone.

“I’m going to join the rescue team,” Rasmus decided. “Come on, we’re a team – whether it be in M&M or real life – we stick together.”

“Fuck,” Harmony whispered. 

Rasmus tightened his grip in hers. “Fuck indeed.”

Fire licked along the tops of the pine trees, and chunks of rock – some as large as a person’s head – littered the ground. The scent of sulfur seared in her nostrils. A man in a fluorescent yellow vest stepped in front of them. 

“Go home,” he said. “This is no place for kids.”

Beyond him, lost in the haze of smoke and dust, someone was screaming. A horrible, lost, scream of pure pain and despair.

Marlon stepped forward. “Hello William. It’s me, Marlon Werner – Gilbert’s son. We’re here to help. What can we do?”

“My dad’s in there.” Jasper was shaking, his voice forlorn. “Please, you’ve got to let me past.”

“So is mine,” Clarissa choked out.

William offered them a kind smile. “The survivors are being transported to the clinic, but they’re evacuating nearby homes to the community center, you should wait there. Any of you kids know first aid? Own a car?”

“I do,” Harmony ventured. “Know first aid, I mean. They taught it in school.”

Figures emerged from the smoke behind them. Two people, clad in the fluro vests, bearing a stretcher between them. Harmony didn’t want to see, but somehow couldn’t pull her eyes away. The man’s arm looked like a hunk of meat left on the grill too long, nothing left of his hand but a fleshy stump. They lifted the stretcher onto the back of a flatbed. “Shit,” she sobbed and buried her head in Rasmus’s chest. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. 

“We can’t help here,” he whispered. “We’d just be a liability. Do you want to go to the community center?” Can you cope with it? his tone asked. 

She nodded mutely against him. “I have to help,” she said. “I’m the healer.”

He laughed at that, a hollow shadow of a laugh. “Can you take the others: Clarissa, Jas, Emma?” A quick glance at Marlon. “Marl and I are gonna go in, if they’ll let us. I think,” he swallowed, traced his finger over the barely healed scabs on his arm, “I think our talents might be of some help.”

William spoke into his radio, listened to the response with a frown, then nodded to them, surprise in his tired eyes. “Well, I’ll be damned – you two have been cleared for entrance,” he said. “But not the girls.”

"Hey, what about me?" Jasper muttered. "My dad's in there!"

"Sorry kid, but no."

“That’s sexist,” Emma snorted. Two people hobbled past, supporting each other.

“It’s practical,” William replied. “We can't have any more casualties. Now, no rubber-necking. Go home, your parents will be worried about you.”

“Good luck.” Harmony hugged first Rasmus, then Marlon. “Look after one another.” She blinked back the moisture from her eyes. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Dread crushed her heart, but William was right – it wasn’t practical, she’d just be a liability. “Come on.” She took Clarissa by the arm, and Emma took Jasper. Both shuddered with shock. 

Clarisse’s mother met them on the street near her house.

“Clara!” she exclaimed, wrapping Clarissa in her arms, sobbing. “Thank Yoba, you’re alright! They got your papa out. He’s... he’s in surgery now. But he – he’s alive.” 

They left her there, sobbing in her mother’s embrace, and wended their way up the path, passing villagers and miners, some looking dusty and dazed, others just dazed. The community center was a hive of activity, and the moment they stepped through the doors. Jasper saw his mother, and he and Emma hurried to her side – to wait for news, good or bad.

Harmony couldn’t settle, she’d come here to help, had to do something. She made her way into the kitchen, where a thermos flask and a pile of Styrofoam cups were thrust into her hands, and she was sent off to dispense hot drinks and empathy. 

They’d been two teams working in the mines, she discovered, when she poured hot drinks for a small group of dusty miners, their clothes covered in blood and grime. “I wish you had something stronger,” one commented.

They’d been in the first group, working a seam near the surface. Their wounds were mostly superficial; burns, and cuts from shrapnel and falling rocks.

“Poor George,” one groaned. Blood had crusted down one side of his dust-stained face, and his knuckles were white around the cup. He met Harmony’s gaze. “We’d just set some dynamite, trying to clear a rockfall, when there’s this fucking deep rumble from down below, like the Void-damned devil hisself, and the world just explodes. I think... I think he dropped the stick at his feet.”

“Next thing we know,” added another, “there’s rocks and other crap raining down around us. And George is just screaming, screaming. Shit. I’ve never heard a man make such a sound. I hope I never do again.”

“It was a bloody nightmare,” the third man rasped. “We couldn’t see nothing, could barely breath, and all we can hear is poor George screaming. And we’re all scared witless, but he’s one of the gang, and we can’t just leave him here.” He held up his hands, wrapped heavily in bandages. “So we just start digging. And we got him out.”

“I hope he’s gonna be okay,” the bloodied man whispered. “But I don’t think he’s ever gonna walk again.”

“And Mikey’ll probably lose his hand,” the bandaged one added.

The second team had been far deeper, close to the epicenter of the blast. “Thirty-seven good men,” Harmony heard someone mutter. “And if any come out of it alive, it’ll be a Yoba-blessed miracle.”

With a heavy ache in her heart, she called her grandmother from the community center’s phone. Reassured them that she was okay, but would stay here tonight, helping with the evacuees. The entire eastern half of the town – where the miners lived in their colorful, wooden cottages – had been emptied. 

“Be careful, pet,” her grandmother’s voice was heavy with concern, but also, love. “We love you.” 

“We wanted to help,” her grandfather added, in the background, “but apparently there innit much we can do tonight, and it’s too dangerous. At least the search and rescue team from Grampleton’s arrived.”

“Too dangerous,” she whispered, after she’d hung up the phone. Please let Marlon and Rasmus be okay.

Head filled with worry and heart fluttering with anxiety, Harmony made her way into the craft room, where a large group of people huddled around the television, watching the footage live.

A muffled boom sounded through the speakers and in the distance; the ground shuddered in response. Several people shrieked, and a woman near Harmony burst into tears. “There’s just been a second explosion,” the reporter shouted on the television, his voice shrill with fear. The camera bounced about, as the reporter ran, surrounding by other running figures. Burning cinders rained around him. He dropped to a crouch, his heavy, gasping breath a roar over the speakers. The camera turned shakily, to focus on a pillar of fire shooting from the ground.

“That’s a ventilation shaft,” he managed to pant out. “They’re calling off the rescue. It’s too dangerous. The gas levels in the mine must be extreme. Unsurvivable.” She picked her way around the people seated on the floor. The news passing from person to person, like a wildfire. It reached Jasper before she did, and found he and his mother sobbing in each others’ arms. 

“My father,” he managed to choke out. “He’s dead.”

Rasmus and Marlon had stumbled in during the earlier hours of the morning, looking shattered – both emotionally and physically. Rasmus walked up to Harmony, wrapped his blood-encrusted arms around her, and kissed her with hungry desperation. His lips tasted of ash and blood.

“Yoba,” he whispered. Tears had streaked trails down the grime that stained his face. “It’s the most horrible fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” He felt so fragile, like he might shatter from grief.

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” Harmony sobbed, then glanced over his shoulder at Marlon, whose gaze was determinedly averted. “Both of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It intrigues me that apparently no-one else has made Marlon and Rasmodius friends - or at least not enough that they would create a tag for their friendship - the whole wizard & warrior just made sense to me. I hope it means my story brings something new to the SDV fic-verse.  
> I'm also amused that I had to create the "Marnie/Rasmodius" tag. Admittedly, Marnie's dialogue in game does indicate that she doesn't know who lives in the tower, but I have chosen to regard that as more that she didn't want to give 'the farmer' too much information, for reasons that will become apparent in a few years time (story wise) ... 
> 
> I had a lot of fun playing with the whole teen bad boy/nice guy relationship trope. Why is it in teen novels that, when given the choice, the main char almost always chooses the dark bad boy?


	15. And the Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mining village has been abandoned, and the sky hangs heavy with smoke, the stink of sulfur and charred wood filling the air. Pelican Town no longer feels like haven, like home... but life must go on.

The forest fire continued to blaze the next morning, filling the air with the stink of smoke and sulfur. Harmony walked home to the ranch feeling like she’d stepped into the pages of a post-apocalyptic nightmare. Tents had been erected in the park surrounding the community center, a temporary camp for the miners and their families. But the people were like ghosts or robots, just moving through the paces. No joy, no laughter. Hardly any conversation. Everything just felt numb.

At first light, Rasmus and Marlon had threatened to head out again, anxious to help how they could. But Harmony insisted on dragging them back to the ranch first. Her grandparents had barely blinked, bless them, when she’d brought not one, but two, boys into their kitchen.

“I ken ye want to help,” her gran said to them, “but ye canna do a hero’s work without a hero’s breakfast.”

She’d also insisted that they let their respective parents know that they were okay. So they’d taken turns showering and using the telephone, while Harmony helped her gran prepare a good rancher’s breakfast of eggs, hash browns, and sausages.

“My mom’s furious,” Rasmus commented. “She said, if I really wanted to be useful, I could help her prepare food for the evacuees, and entertain their children. But, when I think of those poor people, trapped down there, so far beneath the earth... I’ve gotta do something.”

Marlon had been oddly quiet, his gray-green eyes serious as he forked scrambled eggs into his mouth. 

“Is that a sword?” Harmony’s gran asked, frowning at the scabbard that hung from his waist.

“Aye,” he replied. “For pest control. And I’m afeared the pests have become a plague.”

They left soon after breakfast, leaving Harmony unsure of what to do with herself. After feeding the chickens, and collecting their eggs, she returned to the evacuee camp, and spent the day corralling children and entertaining them with stories. It felt like such a small thing to do, but their mothers smiled at her in gratitude, and the laughter of the children lightened the clamp around her heart.

She ran into Jasper in the General Store the next day. His eyes had lost their sparkle, but he managed a feeble smile for her.

“Hi Marn,” he croaked. She stepped forward and hugged him, felt him stiffen in her arms. “We’re leaving,” he said, jerking away from her and rocking back on his heels.

“Oh.” She wasn’t exactly surprised, but she felt his grief like a stab to her heart. The miners’ village lay empty, cordoned off as a no-man’s land, and the mine had been abandoned. Those that could leave – those who didn’t still have family still lost below the ground – had already gone. To Grampleton, to Chesterford, to anywhere that was away. “What about Emma?” “Her dad’s alive,” he whispered, and she felt his grief and his pain so keenly then. “I shouldn’t... I should be glad she’s still got her family, but I don’t have mine and it just seems: So. Fucking. Unfair.” His hands clenched into tight fists. “I won’t be far,” he added. “Just Grampleton. We’re staying with Mom’s sister, just until... Until they get him out.” He choked. “What’s left of him, anyway.” A long, low moan of anguish. “After that, who knows? But I’ll see the others – when school goes back.” 

But not me, Harmony thought, then scolded herself for being selfish. “I’ll miss you,” she said, and pecked a kiss on his cheek. “I’m expecting to receive lots of epic letters from you – each at least thirty words.”

He gave a shaky laugh. “Take care, dudette. I’ll be back for the memorial service.”

The service had been scheduled for the following Sunday. Thirty-seven miners remained in the mines; their bodies might never be recovered.

And then he’d walked away, shoulders slumped. Gone was her loveable goofball of a friend – all that remained, a haunted specter.

The forest fire burned until Friday, when it was finally doused by torrential rain. Harmony sat on her bed, hugging her knees, Cyndi and Brenna curled up to each side of her, and thought of the poor recently-homeless families, huddled in their tents, while thunder and lightning crashed and flashed around them.

The pain, their pain, and the general gloom that Pelican Town had become, was breaking her heart. But what could she do? They no longer needed her at the community center, many of the families had left; the others were now cooking their own meals in the center’s kitchen, and aside from delivering baskets full of eggs every morning, there wasn’t any other way to help. She stared down at her comfort book, realized she had read the same paragraph four times already. Even her mix-tape of ‘songs to uplift the spirit’ hadn’t worked. Listening to lyrics about how your future life would be glorious didn’t help when your current present was complete shit.

A frenzy of barking alerted her to the arrival of a visitor, and shortly after, someone rapped at her bedroom door. “There’s someone to see you,” came her grandmother’s voice. “Perhaps you can dig her out of her funk,” she added, presumably to the guest. 

“Who?” Harmony shouted.

“The tall blond one.”

That induced a small smile. “Send him in.” She should probably get dressed, but didn’t have the energy. Anyway, she was wearing a long shirt and bike shorts – it wasn’t like she was indecent.

Marlon entered, looking about as haggard as Harmony felt.

“Hey,” he said, by way of greeting. “What are you reading?” He nodded at her book. She held it up so he could read the cover.

He rose his eyebrows and flashed his grin. “Pride and Prejudice,” he said. “Ah, the perfect book to mope with. You’re such a cliché, Marns.”

She poked her tongue out at him. “Well, it does rather help that Mr Darcy is a complete babe. Have you read it?”

“Yoba no!” he returned. “Not nearly enough swords and magic for me.”

“Speaking of swords and magic – how’s the ‘pest control’ business.” She made air quotes with her fingers. 

“It’s horrible,” he said, collapsing onto the bed – Brenna fled, but Cyndi looked at him, yawned, and went back to sleep. “Rasmus has set protective wards on all the ventilation shafts we can find – but the monsters are real restless. And the guards on the cordon won’t let us near the epicenter. I’m afraid something real dark is stirring.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “The Void’s lain dormant for twenty years – since my dad and Alexander banished it, back in ‘65. But dammit, Marns, I’m afraid it’s just waiting.”

He shuffled up the bed to lean against her, and she wrapped her arm casually around his shoulders, ruffled his (admittedly already rather ruffled) hair. “You know I don’t understand all this Void stuff,” she said. “I’ve read the books in the library, about the Prince of the Void and all that, but they all make it sound like it’s fairy tales.”

He rolled back his sleeve and unwrapped the bandage that covered his forearm. “Does this look like a fairy tale to you?”

Harmony couldn’t help but wince. “Yoba,” she breathed. The three parallel gashes ran almost from wrist to elbow, and oozed slightly at the edges. The flesh around them was blistered, seared white, as though he hadn’t so much as been clawed, but branded.

“Magma bat,” he whispered. 

“Shouldn’t you have stitches? Or – Yoba – a skin graft?”

He barked a laugh. “Why? ’Tis naught but a flesh wound.”

She hit him with the pillow. “’Tis more than that!”

“I’m fine.” He snatched another pillow, and swung it back at her. “It’s you I’m worried about, Marns.”

“Me?!” The thought was so ridiculous that she snorted in surprise. Oh, how very attractive, Harmony. 

“Yeah,” he said. “This... dark gloom.” He waved his hand in a vague all-encompassing circle. “It can’t be good for someone like you.”

“What? A girl?” She feigned mock outrage.

“Fuck, no! An empath. Someone who feels.”

“Everyone feels.” She frowned at him.

“Not like you do,” he said. “Most people feel for only themselves, but you feel for others. And, you can somehow, also, do the opposite.” He stood up, paced across the floor. “You make people feel better, just by being near them,” he said it no louder than a whisper. “You’re like a soul healer.”

She laughed, feeling faintly embarrassed, because he was making her sound like she was something unique and special, and not just dull, fat Marnie Stewart. “Seriously?”

He knelt on the edge of the bed, and his eyes locked with hers. There was an intensity in his gaze, in his gray-green iris with its golden halo: like a storm-cloud in a summer sky. “Seriously,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

She felt impaled, and a little overwhelmed. 

His tongue darted out, licked his lips. Was he going to... kiss her? A shiver of anticipation thrilled down her spine.

Then a smile quirked the corner of his lips and he lunged, tickling her until she – laughing so hard, she could barely articulate the words – pleaded for him to stop. 

*

Pelican Town had became a ghost town. With Jasper gone and Marlon and Rasmus off doing their hero ‘Pest Control’, Harmony had a lot of spare time, and too much on her mind. She kept her promise to buy Rasmus a pizza every Friday, and spent a lot of time in the library, reading her way through the small collection. Rasmus joined her when he was able, and they stole kisses around the back of the stacks; emerged, blinking against the light, with lips swollen, faces flushed, and her heart aflame.

Caroline caught them once, snogging in the new-age section, and gave Harmony a look cold enough to freeze lava.

“Slut,” she mouthed.

The accusation stung, even as Harmony assured herself, She’s just jealous.

The rest of the time, she worked on the ranch, and ran errands around town for the villagers who remained.

She was sitting on a park bench by the river, eating an egg sandwich and throwing pieces of crust to the ducks, when someone sat down beside her.

“Hey Harmony.” Lewis gave her a small, sad smile. “Mind if I join you?”

She’d nodded, and they fell into conversation. After that, as if by formal arrangement, they started meeting there for lunch most days. He, like her, kept himself occupied by running errands and generally lending a hand. “Not that there’s many people left to help,” he said.

But Marlon had been right, and the doom and gloom that permeated the atmosphere laid a heavy weight upon her chest and it was almost, almost, a relief when her parents called her home a few weeks before the end of summer.


	16. Conversations Piece II

Extractions from letters sent between Harmony Andrews, aka Marnie Stewart, and Marlon Werner, between August 17th 1988 and June 14th 1989

August 17th  
“Hey Marl,

So, I’m home again, with my parents. And it’s super-weird. Mom has absolutely NO idea how to deal with a teenage girl. Especially not one who’s gone through ‘life-changing’ trauma. Keeps trying to send me to a shrink to ‘talk about it’. Like I’ve got PTSD or something. Sure, sometimes I jump when I hear a loud noise – and once I may have had a small panic attack when a car backfired near me, but I’m like totally okay, Mom. Mostly. 

I hope you guys are doing alright too. And that your arm hasn’t become infected or anything (I’d hate for you to have to have it amputated). And that Rasmus is remembering to eat, now I’m not there to bully him into it.

One advantage of being back at the family mansion again, is I now have access to my dad’s epic vinyl collection. He’s got a lot of new stuff, that I think you might like (turns out he’s a closet metalhead), so please find enclosed a collection of loud, fast and heavy s**t. I’m pretty sure you’ll like it, cos I can barely listen to it.

… Love Marnie xxoo”

August 30th  
“Hi Marnie,

Tape is great. Totally pissed C off. Your Dad’s tastes are killer.

More importantly, Are you sure you haven’t got PTSD? I mean, you weren’t caught up in the worst of it, but it freaking gives me nightmares, and I’ve got the empathy of a turnip. Maybe you should just talk to the therapist anyway? Can’t hurt, right?

Arm has healed okay. There’s scars, but Pa says scars are like a map of our life, and if my scars make me look like some sort of warrior hero, I’ll take that. In related news, Pa’s still trying to talk Mr Alexander into coming back. Stubborn old fella won’t commit. But they’ve defeated the Void before, they can do it again. Would get R & me off the hook. R. is OK. Seems like your grandparents are onto his case now, and between them, his mom, and me, I reckon we can make sure he keeps eating. Not sure how he’d react to his dad being back. Hopefully the old dude will agree though. We kinda need him.

Anyway, back to school next week – I’ll let you know how J is. Can’t wait to hear about your new roomie. Hope she’s as crazy as L. Let me know if you need anymore erotic poetry on postcards.

… Marl xo

PS: I’m sending you back another mix-tape. There’s a song on this one – the one about the Seven Keys – that kinda explains the deal with the Void. It’s super-long. ” 

September 18th  
“Hey Marl

‘Need’ is a very strong word. ‘Want’ more appropriate. Might traumatize my roomie though. Her name’s Susan, and she’s super-sweet and a real book nerd. Loves Mr Darcy. Also, you totally have more empathy than a turnip. If we’re comparing it with root vegetables, I’d say you’re more like a sweet potato. Golden all the way through, and delicious with salt or sugar. I’m not sure where I was going with that, but now I’m hungry. Thanks dude.

How’s the gang? 

… Marn xo” 

Sept 30th  
“Marn,

J seems OK. He’s like, sad, all the time, but he and Em are still together, so that’s good I guess. Kinda feel like we’ll never see our loveable jester again though. 

Rasmus is, well Rasmus. Dark and broody and a damn chick magnet. Why do girls go for that? Asking on behalf of all the non-dark and definitely-not broody guys out there who’d kinda like a date. Pretty sure I caught C doodling ‘CW ♥ RL’ on her exercise book yesterday. 

Anyway, we miss you heaps.

… your favorite sweet potato xo

PS: enclosed is a postcard with erotic poetry on it. Enjoy X” 

October 23rd  
“To my sweet, sweet potato,

Sorry it takes me so long to write. Turns out that junior year involves super lots of work – who would’ve thought it? Doing biology this year, because hello, vet nursing. So far we’ve had to cut up sheep eyeballs (ick). Guess I’m a bit squeamish.

Thanks for the postcard. The line about the carrot and the turnip made me laugh so hard Susan is starting to think I’m totally crazy.

You clearly do not understand the allure of the dark and broody. I guess it’s cos they’re thrilling and maybe dangerous? I dunno, but if you read, like Jane Eyre, or Wuthering Heights, you might get an inkling of the appeal.

… M xo”

November 13th  
Happy Birthday Marnie!

Hope I got the day right this time. Enclosed is a gemstone. It’s a topaz. I did some research, and it’s like your birthstone. According to Ms Lund, topaz ‘brings joy, generosity, abundance and good health.’ I hope it works for you.

Read both those books. Well, tried – skim-read most of them. Bit dry and long-winded for me. Also, not enough swordplay. Jane should never have gone back after the fire. Leave what-his-name blind and alone. Poetic justice, if you ask me. As for Heathcliffe. What a creep, but at least he got his … Ah well, I guess I’ll never understand women.

… love M xo

PS: I don’t suppose you can make it to WS this year?”

November 30th  
“Marl,

Love it! Took it into the jeweler’s yesterday, and got it set into a gold band. I’m gonna wear it always.

Also, Susan thinks it’s totally like the bestest, most romantic gift ever, and she now wants to marry you. So you know what, I think you do understand women better than you reckon.

Mother’s decided we’re going to some ski resort to WS this year. I’ve never skied in my life and will probably spend most of the time flat on my butt.

Hope you’re doing something fun for it. After all the dark-stuff that’s been going on.

Also, sorry I forgot to ask sooner – how’s Clarissa’s dad? George? You guys still an ‘item’?

… Marn xo”

December 13th  
“Marn,

George is okay, I guess, though he’ll never walk again. It’s turned him into a grumpy duffer. Clarissa and I didn’t last the summer. Prob my fault, cos I hardly saw her – what with all the Void crap and her dad’s injury... Anyhow, she’s dating some gridball jock now. She seems happy, even if he’s a total douche. 

But I’m afraid I’ll still have to disappoint your roomie. Tell her she seems sweet, but alas, my heart belongs to another.

Lewis has suggested we do something to lift the community spirit, so he proposed a ‘secret gift exchange’ for WS. I dunno what it’s doing to lift the community spirit, but it sure as heck is causing a ton of stress. We had to write our names on scraps of paper and put them into a hat, then draw someone out. And do you know who I got?

Robin. That’s who.

What the hell am I gonna get for her? She’s not into all that girly s**t and I don’t even really know her. I could ask C I suppose, but I’m not sure I’d trust her not to suggest something totally inappropriate.

Please respond ASAP.

… Marl xo”

December 19th  
“You’ve probably got something already... but have you considered chocolate? I don’t really know her either, but unless she’s like diabetic, you can’t go wrong with chocolates.

Also, you’ve broken Susan’s heart. She (and I) demand to know who this lucky lady is (or man – whatever).

… love M xo

PS: enclosed is a Winter Star gift for you. I saw it at the jewelery store and couldn’t resist. Not sure how effective it will be, but it’s really pretty.”

December 31st  
“Dear Marnie,

Thanks for your suggestion. It came too late, but that’s OK, I ran into her mother in the gen store, and asked her for advice. Ended up getting her one of those Build your own Bird-house kits, and she seemed to like it. Fanciest damn birdhouse I’ve ever seen. I think the birds are a bit intimidated by it.

I got a manicure set and half a dozen bars of soap. Suspect C was my secret gift-giver.

And a special thanks for the present. I’m sure it’ll come in super-handy in the mines.

As for the other question... well, it kinda disappoints me that you haven’t figured it out already.

Happy New Year. 

… Marl xo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious, the "song about the keys" is "Keeper of the Seven Keys" by Helloween. It's a thirteen minute epic and it's amazing, if you're into melodic heavy metal (ie: power metal). And even if you're not, I'd suggest giving it a listen!
> 
> I have contemplated making a playlist of all the songs I vaguely refer to in this 'fic. If anyone is interested, let me know.


	17. Summer Lovin' 89

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harmony returns to Pelican Town for her third summer, and rekindles last summer's romance - taking it to the next level.  
> Losing her virginity.
> 
> Trigger warning: dubious consent/moderate sexual content/teenage sex

Harmony’s heart fluttered with nerves as she descended from the bus. She’d been unsure about going back at all, but it had been a year, and she ached for the old camaraderie between her and the boys. However, a year was also a long time, when you were sixteen-going-on-seventeen. What if they’d moved on?

A figure moved in the shadow of the maple tree, and the fluttering nerves turned into frantically beating butterflies. Rasmus charged towards her, enfolded her in a crushing hug. “Marn,” he whispered against her hair. “It’s so good to see you.” She couldn’t hold back a sob then, so relieved to see him, that he seemed so fit and fine. He drew back, swept a curl of hair from her face, and kissed her with such possessive passion that she couldn’t help but whimper. His stubble brushed rough against her face.

“Do you greet all your friends that way?” she gasped, voice shaky. They’d exchanged maybe four letters over the school year, and whilst they’d held a hint of flirtation – a very strong hint – they’d been no indication that he’d committed to a relationship. 

He drew back, regarding her with those dark eyes, flecked with blue, his pupils dilated. “Only the ones I really, really like,” he purred huskily.

“So, Marlon then?”

He barked a laugh. “As fond of my warrior brother as I am, no, that greeting is reserved for my favorite damsels. Of which you,” he kissed her on the nose, “Are top of the list. Here,” he scooped up her bag, “I’ll walk you to the ranch.”

“You’re looking good,” she commented, and squeezed his arm. His sleeves were rolled up and, although his forearms were still covered in the white flecks of scars, there were no new wounds.

He rewarded the compliment with a crooked smile. “It seems Marlon, your grandparents, and my mom, have all conspired to fatten me up.” A cloud passed over his face then, and his brow furrowed. “Plus my father’s returned.”

“What? Really!” Thank Yoba. 

“What indeed. It seems the mine explosion was enough to draw the old bastard back. He and Gil have been strengthening the wards. Like Marl and I weren’t capable of keeping the valley safe by ourselves.” There was venom in his voice, but Harmony could only feel a sense of relief. Better for the older, experienced, heroes to defend the village, right? She squeezed his hand in hers. “It’ll give us more time together,” she said, peering up at him with what she hoped was a coquettish expression. “If you want that, that is?”

His smile was so wickedly devilish that it speared straight through her heart, and into her core, filling her belly with molten heat. “Oh,” he said. “I would like that very much indeed.”

*

As summer romances went, it was everything Harmony had hungered for. The two of them, hands entwined, took long walks in Cindersap Forest – where she tried to find this endemic, exotic creature that had secured it as a reserve.

“They’re called junimo,” Rasmus said. “And they’re everywhere, watching us. Can’t you see them?” He pointed into the trees, where the breeze made the foliage jiggle and bounce, but there was no animal in sight.

“You’re just teasing me,” she accused.

“No!” he replied, indignant. 

But, after that, he’d stopped pointing them out to her.

There was a lot of kissing – kisses stolen, hard and hungry in the forest, or soft and gentle on the beach. His hands tangled roughly in her hair, he claimed her lips with his. Branded her throat with a necklace of bruises, which she had to wear high collars to hide. She become familiar with every curve and contour of his face: his strong chin, the arch of his cheekbones, the twitch of his lips. The proud heat of his erection, burning against her belly, as he pushed her up against a tree in the forest, and snogged her until she could barely breathe, and all thoughts evaporated into mist.

One night, when Harmony returned to the ranch, practically floating, flushed and feverish with passion, her grandmother greeted, teasingly: “Is our wee Harmony in love? Which one did ye choose? The dark handsome devil? Or the gorgeous blond angel?”

“Gran!” she groaned, in both embarrassment and joy. “Rasmus. Of course.”

“Really?” Her gran regarded her, gaze serious. “Interesting. I would’ve thought ye and the blond were better suited – I’ve seen the way he looks at ye, like you’re the most precious thing in the world. Plus, he’s been a good help around the house. The other one, with the wicked smile – well, I canna judge the ways of ye young heart, but he has the look of the lady-killer about him. Och well, there’s no accounting for young taste. Just remember to always use a condom. I ain’t ready to be a great-grandmama just yet.”

“Gran!” Pure embarrassment this time. “We’re not. We haven’t.” At least not yet.

She pondered her gran’s words that night, while she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Did Marlon really look at her like that? No, surely her grandmother was mistaken. She and Marl were friends. Like you and Rasmus were, until he kissed you. Her toes curled at the memory. 

Could Marlon be interested in her, like romantically? Shit, what if... She dragged out the shoebox of letters. Read through them again, as she’d read through them many, many times in her room at the boarding school. Well, there were certainly hints there, although with a wry tongue-in-cheek goofiness that could indicate he was joshing with her. And, as sweet and generous as Marlon was, he just didn’t make her pulse race and her heart sing, the way Rasmus did. In all the times they’d been alone together, he’d never once tried to kiss her.

Besides, what did her grandmother know? Marlon was kind to everyone – he probably looked at every girl that way. And for all she knew, maybe his heart belonged to Rasmus. 

*

“Would you like to see my tower?” Rasmus purred in Harmony’s ear – and she fumbled the basket of eggs she’d gathered. 

“Shoot!” she muttered. How had he sneaked up on her so quietly? Her heart leaped in her throat, both at the surprise, and at the warm, sexy heat of his presence – not to mention the words themselves. His crooked smile indicated that yes, the innuendo was 100% intentional.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, steadying them, if not her stampeding heart. His smooth, soft palms glided down her arms – they tingled with electric energy – and took the basket gently from her, now rather too tight, grasp. Setting it to one side, he cupped her face in his hands.

“Oh Marnie,” he growled. “You look so damned hot.”

She laughed at that, clad as she was in a buttoned-up tartan blouse (buttoned to the throat, to hide the love bites) and her oldest jeans, cut off raggedly just below the knees and covered in rock band patches to hide how worn they were. 

“I look like a farmer,” she said.

“Correction.” He kissed her on the nose. “You look like a hot farmer.” His hand strayed down to her breast, and he cupped the weight of it, thumb idly flicking her nipple. So far, she’d restricted his wandering hands to above clothing only, but she’d let him under soon – because she hungered for him with a passion bordering on desperation, and because she was worried she’d lose him if she didn’t. But they were in her grandmother’s hen house, so she took his wrist in hand, moved it away, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear: “Later.”

“Come and see my tower,” he suggested.

She laughed, relented. “It’s really finished?”

“It’s really finished,” he confirmed. “Tall, proud and erect. Built with quality Stardew rock too.”

“Rasmus,” she laughed. “You’re terrible.”

“I know,” came his cheeky response. “Go on, take your eggs to the farmhouse, and let’s go.”

Sunlight shone through the canopy of leaves, casting a dappled trail on the path before them. Rasmus kept glancing at her, giving her his sly, self-assured smile, his fingers clutched firmly about hers.

Her gran, picking weeds from her small vegetable garden, had watched them depart, a slight frown upon her features. Two days ago, she’d pressed a box of condoms into Harmony’s hands and, despite the fact that the girl had been blushing, wild with embarrassment, said, “You can’t trust an Alexander to keep it in his pants.”

Harmony’s free hand strayed into her pocket, to the foil package there. Her gran had been right, of course, and Harmony knew that, once they were within the walls of Rasmus’s tower (although he wouldn’t officially own it until mid-winter when he’d turn eighteen), they’d be no point in postponing the inevitable. Her stomach was all nerves and butterflies. What if the sight of her naked body turned him away? She wasn’t slender like Caroline, nor did she have perky breasts like Liliana. No, she was just plain, dull Marnie, curvaceous-bordering-on-fat.

At least, thanks to the discovery of a certain bookshelf (well hidden in a dark corner, and at the top of a high shelf) in the library, she knew – roughly – what to expect. That and the various tales that had floated around St Helena’s. 

“What do you think, Marn?” Rasmus asked, and she blinked stupidly at him.

“What?” 

His brow furrowed as he pierced her with his dark hazel eyes. “Hello? Earth to Marnie, can you read me, Marnie?” He tapped her lightly on the forehead. “Mind elsewhere?” Followed by a teasing smile.

Yoba, were her emotions that transparent on her face? “Maybe just a bit,” she confessed.

“Well, now that contact has been established – what do you think of my tower?” He gestured with a flourish, and she gaped.

The watch-tower had been transformed. No longer a crumbling ruin, now it stood, yes, tall and proud. It also looked...

“Did you model it on a storybook?” she asked him.

He shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. “Hell yeah. If I’m gonna be a wizard, I’m going to live in an honest-to-Yoba storybook tower. What do you think?”

“It’s awesome,” she admitted.

“Wanna go inside?”

As if there was any other answer to that. He guided her up the narrow stone steps, and to the front door.

Inside, it was slightly bare, but no less impressive. The floor tiled in a mosaic of colors, the first room was large but currently empty, a door at the back lead into a small kitchen, a old-fashioned icebox in the corner, and a potbelly nestled an alcove opposite it.

“Where did you get the money for all of this?” she asked. Her gran had told her they’d been an inheritance, but she wasn’t so sure that was the truth.

He rose an eyebrow at her. “Let’s just say, that being a wizard can provide some very lucrative opportunities.”

“You didn’t steal it, did you?” Harmony meant it to sound a little joking, but it ended up sounding a tad accusatory. 

He looked at her, affronted. “Of course not! All legit, well, legit – ish – and completely above board, except for the fake ID; since sixteen-year olds aren’t allowed to gamble. And if I just manipulated the odds a little in my favor, what of it? I told mom my dad had given it to me. As if the bastard would give me anything, well, aside from magic, so I ‘spose it wasn’t a complete lie.”

Ginger Tim trotted out of the back room, and twined himself around her ankles. “Hey big guy.” She scratched his head. “He’s really been with you your whole life?”

“Really,” Rasmus replied. “Now.” And her knees turned to jello, as he offered her his most devilish smile – the kind of smile that suggested other, very exciting, opportunities awaited her. “Would you like to see the bedroom?”

There was a large four-poster bed, and a bookcase, but any other adornments were completely forgotten when he flung her onto the bed. He pounced, pinning her to the mattress. Lips soft, stubble rough, he greedily devoured her mouth with his. The weight of him above her somehow both comforting, yet also terrifying, especially the raw heat of his erection, pressing against her. 

“I want you,” he growled in her ear. Didn’t wait for a response, but began unbuttoning her shirt with one hand, bracing himself with the other arm.

Harmony didn’t stop him, wasn’t even sure she could’ve stopped him if she’d wanted to – and her heart thrilled at the thought that this handsome, devilish man found her desirable. Shirt open, his hand found her breast, wormed its way under the bra, squeezed hard enough that she shivered in both pain and pleasure.

“I’ve wanted you for so very long.”

His mouth found hers again, stubble grazing her chin, teeth pulling on the edge of her lip. Her bra was pushed up awkwardly, across her breasts, so she leaned forward, struggling to undo the clasp, and freed them.

The groan he gave when they were revealed in their full, unbound glory was somehow gratifying. And his hands and mouth were all over her, stroking, teasing, tasting. He licked his finger, and traced a rune on her stomach, just above her belly button. “To stop you getting pregnant,” he whispered.

She drew the foil packet from her pocket, pressed it into his palm. “Please,” she said. “I’d rather you used that.”

His hands on her face. “Don’t you trust me Marn.”

She kissed his nose. “Of course I trust you, Ras, but I’m not sure I trust magic. Okay? And gran would kill you if I made her a great-grandmother before she’s 70.”

He rolled his eyes, and gritted his teeth, in a manner that suggested he thought she was foolish, but he’d relent because she’d asked him to. “It’s better without though,” he said, offhandedly.

For you or me? she wondered.

There was very little of the foreplay she’d read about in the novels – clearly Rasmus hadn’t shared her interest in erotic literature. Instead, he unzipped her jeans, drew them down over her hips, and groaned again in appreciation at the sight of her, laid before him. Her underwear came off next. Then he stood, and stripped off his own jeans and underwear. Somewhere along the way, she’d unbuttoned his shirt – although she couldn’t remember actually doing it – and he crouched over her, his shirt open, cock hard and eager, dribbling slightly on her belly button.

With a roll of his eyes, he unwrapped the condom and rolled it on with a level of confidence that indicated that this was something he’d done before.

To Harmony’s inexperienced eyes, his cock looked terrifyingly large, like it might impale her and tear her apart. She wasn’t sure how she felt about having it inside her – but it was too late to change her mind now. She must’ve made an audible noise, perhaps a whimper, because he leaned over and kissed her tenderly.

“I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

He licked his fingers, then massaged her labia, lubricating her with saliva, before angling himself above her, braced on one elbow.

Then he slid himself in.

He moved slowly, and may have even been trying to be gentle, but that didn’t help ease the tearing burn of sensation. She gasped, and felt the slick wetness as he split her shield, lubricating her with blood. 

“Oh Yoba,” he groaned above her. “You’re so fucking tight.” And, perhaps misinterpreting her whimpers as pleasure, instead of the burning heat of pain, thrust harder.

Harmony clawed her hands into the bedsheets, braced her elbows against the bed, and gritted her teeth as he thrust into her again, again, again. The pain dulled, after a while, and she was just beginning to realize that, perhaps, there was some pleasure to be found, when he suddenly gave a great whimpering sound, almost like he were dying, and his cock spasmed inside her.

He collapsed a heartbeat later, rolling to one side and disengaging himself, cock limp and spent, condom hanging from it like a partly-filled water balloon.

“Was that good for you?” he whispered.

Not really, she thought, but said instead, “It hurt. But, but, I kinda liked it.”

“It’ll be easier the next time,” he rasped, and kissed her on the nose. “Now I’ve... opened you.”

Harmony blinked back tears. “I’m gonna go and get cleaned up,” she said, trying not to let him see how upset she was. The novels had made it sound like sex was amazing, awe-inspiring, and downright pleasurable – but they’d failed to mention that it was painful, and messy, and, when it all came down to it, really rather gross: her thighs were sticky with blood and other juices.

She found the bathroom – an ensuite, thank Yoba, since she didn’t want to go wandering around the house naked – and wiped herself down with toilet paper and water. There was quite a bit of blood. She’d known there would be bleeding – but hadn’t thought to pack a pad. Had to make do, again, with wadding toilet paper into her underwear. When she’d regained her composure, splashed water in her face to hide her tears, and returned to Rasmus’s side, she found him sprawled out, condom still hanging off his limp cock, and fast asleep.

She limped over to the bookcase, selected a book (because, despite the lack of furniture, there were already some books here – priorities, priorities) and, sitting gingerly on the bed beside him, began to read.

*

“I don’t like sex,” Harmony declared. She tore a chunk of bread off her sandwich and threw it to the ducks.

To his credit, Marlon didn’t sidle away, blanch or even blush – although his cheeks did color slightly – but just glanced away for a second, and then back at her. “I’m not sure I’m the one you should be talking to about this,” he said.

“I don’t have anyone else,” she replied, sounding annoyingly waspish even to herself. “Well except my gran, and as much as I’m sure she’d love to discuss her grand-daughter’s sex life, I just can’t go there. My only girl friend is Susan, and she’s still a sweet, sweet virgin. I don’t want to traumatize her.”

“So you’re traumatizing me instead?” Marlon groaned and leaned back on the park bench. Then added, tentatively, as though he were afraid she’d bite his head off, “Have you considered, maybe, mentioning it to Rasmus?” 

“I can’t,” she replied, her shoulders slumping. “Because, well, he does – like it, I mean. A lot – and... then he might just walk away.”

Marlon took her hand in his, flinched when she drew it away. “Would that really be such a bad thing?” he said, his voice low. 

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She moaned and banged her head, lightly, on her hand. “Why DO people like it? It’s all just moaning and grunting and flesh slapping against flesh and fluids everywhere.”

Now he was blushing. “Very romantic imagery there, Marns,” he said. “Maybe you should try writing some of that erotica fiction I’ve seen you reading. Anyway, I suspect it’s different when you’re in love?” he added, still tentative. “Do you love Rasmus?”

She stared at him for a long moment, into those gray-green eyes, focused on her so sincerely. “I think I loved him more before we started fucking,” she admitted.

Marlon flinched when she swore. Which made her laugh – albeit a hollow, half-choked laugh – because it was normally the other way around. 

“We used to,” she said, “I dunno, talk and go for walks, and like kiss a lot – do fun things like that. Now all we do is...” added at a whisper, as though the town wasn’t mostly a ghost town, “...have sex.”

Marlon stood up.

“If you were my girlfriend...” He took a few steps away, as though the thought vaguely disturbed him. “...Well, I’d want you to be having sex with me – making love with me, actually – because you enjoyed it, not because you felt it was your duty. And I guess, if I found out you weren’t, I’d either find a way to help you enjoy it or... well, maybe just stop, and find something else to do? Like mini-golf or something. Sex isn’t just about the guy getting his rocks off, you know.” He pinned her with his gaze, eyes serious. “You need to talk to him,” he said. “Either that, or break it off with him.”

“But I don’t want to lose him as a friend,” she said.

“You should’ve thought about that before you let him snog your brains out.” 

Marlon sounded so horribly angry that Harmony felt herself choking up, and buried her face in her arms so he wouldn’t see her cry. 

“Shit,” he said, realizing immediately anyway. “I’m sorry. That was a dick thing to say, Marns. I’m so sorry.” He collapsed on the bench close to her, and opened his arms for her. She curled into the comfort of his embrace. “I promise you,” he said, pressing a kiss the top of her head, “that I will always be your friend, no matter what. And as for Rasmus, if he’s too much of a dickhead to accept friendship over fucking, well, than he definitely doesn’t deserve you.”

“Thank you,” Harmony whispered. “You know that I love you, right.”

“Right,” Marlon replied, stroking her hair. “And I love you too.”

* 

Rasmus did not take the news well.

“None of the others ever complained,” he said churlishly. 

Harmony did not point out that, to the best of her knowledge, the only other one was Lily, and Lily was... unique. “I’m just suggesting,” she ventured, “that maybe you should read some of these books?”

He’d glared at her. “I’m not reading any soppy romances,” he said, pain – and a hint of childish anger – in his voice. “Just because you’re a frigid bitch.”

She flinched as if he’d slapped her. He’s only upset because you’ve hurt his pride, and made him doubt, she told herself. Wasn’t sure if it were true. Maybe she was frigid. Maybe there was something wrong with her, that she couldn’t enjoy something (apparently) enjoyed by every other women on the planet.

“I’m leaving now,” she said. “I’ll come back tomorrow for the books.”

He flung them after her, and she cradled them to her chest, as though to comfort them from the hurt.

She rang Marlon later that night. “I’m fairly certain that Rasmus and I are over,” she said. Her heart felt it had been torn into pieces, but she was quite pleased at how decisive she sounded.

“Bastard,” he replied. “He never deserved you anyway.”

“Marlon,” she said, “You’re like the best girlfriend ever.”

He laughed, low and deep. “Well, if that’s what you need, Marns, that’s what I’ll be.”


	18. Conversation Piece III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last (and most melancholy) letters between Marlon and Harmony.

14th January 1990  
“Dear Marnie,

… Not sure if I’m being the bearer of bad news, good news, or just plain gossipy news, but I thought you should know. Liliana is pregnant, and since no-one but Rasmus has spent any time with her, Jenkins has determined that he’s the father. Whether that’s the case or not remains to be seen but Rasmus hasn’t argued, so it seems likely it’s true. And, because this is the countryside, and that’s how we do things, there’s gonna be a shotgun wedding.

You can come if you like, but I know it’s short notice, and that by the time you get this, it might be too late anyway. However, on the 20th January, 1990, Liliana Jenkins will be marrying Rasmus Lund.

Neither party seems particularly happy about it, but at least they have a nice house to move into. I hope he treats her okay. I’ll try and keep an eye on things... but I can’t help but think ... that poor girl deserves better.

… love Marlon xo”

30th January 1990   
“Dear Marlon

… Thanks for the update re: R. I hope the two of them are happy together, but somehow I can’t see it being so. Can’t believe Jenkins has forced the shotgun thing – hasn’t he heard of being a solo parent?

I’m afraid I’m gonna be the bearer of bad news too – I won’t be back for this summer. It’s not that I don’t love the valley and all (I miss you and my grandparents like mad), but I really want to pursue this vet nursing thing, and I’m starting with a summer course.

It’s probably for the best though. Aside from you and my grandparents, I’m not sure what’s left for me in the Valley anymore.

… Marnie xo”

14th February 1990   
Received attached to a bouquet of yellow roses. “Dearest Marnie,

I would like to hope that I and your grandparents count for a lot. We sure do love you and miss you. 

If I could leave the Valley, I’d come for you myself. Maybe whisk you away on a white horse, like those princes you read about so much.

Rasmus is a jerk. Please come home soon.

… lots of love Marlon xoxoxoxo

PS: I’m sending you roses because it’s Valentine’s Day. They’re yellow because a. it’s a happy color and b. they’re for friendship. The fact that they were considerably cheaper than the red ones had nothing to do with it.”

20th February   
“Dear Marlon

Thank you very much for the roses. They were very much appreciated. I’ve only received flowers once before in my life – and you will remember that well.

Anyway, your faith in me had determined me to my course: I WILL not let Rasmus “that bastard” Lund put me off the best home I’ve ever known. I WILL be back. It might just take a few years.

… Love Marnie xo” 30th June   
“… Lily lost the baby. Rasmus is a total broken mess.

Wish you were here. We miss you, our heart.

… Marlon xxoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends Part One of Harmony
> 
> Part Two will be uploaded here next week.


	19. 1992

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After two years absence, Marnie returns to Pelican Town to take over her grandparent's ranch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next part spans two decades. It covers the tragedy alluded to in "Broken", and features some of our favourite villagers as children (and later, teenagers). Be warned, there's going to be heartbreak, hope, and expands further on the background history of many chars. Some things that may not, entirely, be supported by the canon (especially after 1.4, since I'm not psychic, alas) but hopefully won't contradict it.
> 
> So enjoy meeting Trent. If I ever learn to design sprites/mod I'm going to create him as an NPC.

You are invited to the wedding of:  
Marnie Stewart  
and Trenton Jacobson

In the flower glade  
west of Cindersap Forest  
The ceremony will begin at 3pm  
3rd October 1992

Followed by a reception at Cinders Ranch  
Please RSVP by 06.30.1992

October

It was a beautiful, clear fall day. The maple trees sported cloaks of glorious orange, and the sunshine gold of sunflowers, and a rainbow of fairy roses bright against the grass. Marnie stepped from the horse-drawn carriage, placing her feet carefully, so as not to tread on the hem of her dress. It was a beautiful, vintage gown: the corset-style bodice held her stomach flat, whilst accentuating her breasts, and tiny glass beads glittered amongst the delicate lace-work. The skirt glided over her hips, wide and full, with layers of tulle. She wore the frozen tear necklace at her throat, now hanging from a golden chain. Her wild hair had been tamed, somewhat, with a multitude of clips and hairspray, into a waterfall braid, and was threaded with flowers.

She felt like a princess. Her hand resting on her grandfather’s arm, she walked the aisle, to the tune of ‘Unchained Melody’.

The whole village had turned up to see her, but she had eyes only for the tall man waiting for her, sunlight glinting on his copper-red hair.

Dr Trenton Jacobson, DVM.

They’d met in her Vet Nursing course – he the shy, handsome veterinarian who had caught her eye when, on her first placement, she’d assisted him with performing a caesarian on a pug. Well, in truth, she’d mostly stood there, handed him the tools he needed, and tried to hold back her nausea at the amount of blood. They’d been another nurse to help with the more hands-on requirements.

He’d taken her out for a drink afterward, and they’d toasted the three healthy pups. It had been her last night on the placement, and he’d taken her on her first, proper, date six weeks later.

They’d gone to see a movie, ‘Ghost’, and she’d sobbed her eyes out. Thought that might be the last of him, but no. For some reason, he seemed to like her, despite her runny nose and tear-stained face. 

They’d begun dating soon thereafter. He was a slow, careful lover – the antithesis of Rasmus – seeking her pleasure over his own, and treating her as gently as he handled a newborn puppy or an injured cat. And animals were drawn to him: dogs would approach him on the street, begging him for attention and – when she’d brought him to the ranch to meet her grandparents, Cyndi and Brenna had gravitated towards him, with the former perching on his shoulder, and the latter curling in his lap. After her graduation, he had taken her to a fancy restaurant, and proposed over dessert.

Looking back over her wedding day, Marnie could hardly remember any of it – it all felt like a beautiful, glorious dream. The smile that he greeted her with, so filled with pleasure, with delight that she was to be his. How damned handsome he looked in his tuxedo (although she was biased there; he looked pretty damned adorable in a lab coat and vet scrubs too, especially the ones printed with cartoon kitties that she’d brought him as a joke, and he’d insisted on wearing to work).

Lewis lead the ceremony, celebrant being one of his many qualifications. Neither had attendees: Trent’s parents had died when he was young, leaving him with no brothers or sisters, and at the mercy of the Ferngill foster system. Marnie had asked Susan, whom she still remained friends with, and the lass had been eager to attend the wedding, but reluctant to be “on display”, as she’d put it. On a whim, and half-jokingly, Marnie had suggested the idea to Marlon, but he’d declined. “I’m afraid I don’t have the legs for the dress,” he said. “And a tux isn’t really my style.”

He was looking fairly sharp today though in a button-up, long-sleeved shirt and dress pants, Marnie noticed, when he came up to congratulate the newlyweds. He shook hands with Trent.

“You better treat her right,” he said and, whilst he made it sound like a teasing joke, she could hear the protective edge.

“I promise,” Trent had replied, eyes serious and sincere, his arms draped around her waist.

He then hugged Marnie, whispered in her ear: “You look beautiful. I hope he realizes how damned lucky he is.” Then pecked a kiss on her cheek, nodded and strolled away. A tall, lean man with glasses and curly hair came up to congratulate them next, his wife beside him, clutching a small, somewhat wiggly, bright-eyed child. It took Marnie a moment to recognize him. Then... “Oh Yoba, Jasper! And Emma! I can’t believe you made it.”

“How could I miss your wedding, Marn?” he laughed. “And it’s past time I introduced you to our son, Jasper Junior. JJ, for short.”

“He’s gorgeous,” Marnie replied. “Congratulations yourself.” She reached out to touch JJ’s chubby hand. He immediately grabbed for the frozen tear necklace.

“You’ll see a bit more of me soon.” Jasper carefully extracted the stone from his son’s grip. “I’ve been cleared to write my thesis on the ancient civilizations of Stardew Valley.”

“Feel free to drop by the ranch whenever you like,” she said, wrapping her arms around him, then hugging Emma as well. “And,” she added to the woman, “if you’re ever in town, and you want company, give me a call.”

Rasmus, who had hovered awkwardly in the background, eventually picked up the courage to approach them. He was wearing a satin shirt, which shimmered purple in the sunlight. “Hello Marnie,” he said, looking like a dog that was worried it was about to be scolded. “Trenton. Congratulations and all that.”

Trent shook his hand, patted him on the shoulder. “I understand that you’re one of my wife’s best friends? Thank you.”

Rasmus looked momentarily taken aback, but recovered quickly. “Yeah. Yes, well, I guess I was. And thank you,” he added. “Um, I’m glad you found someone who can make you happy Marn.” He shuffled a bit, as though he wanted to hug her, but unsure she’d accept him. “Well, take care.”

“Rasmus,” Marnie said. “Come here.” She opened her arms and squeezed him hard.

“The past is the past,” she whispered. “The future is what matters. And we’ll always be friends.”

He smiled, kissed her on the forehead, and stepped back, taking her hands in his. “I’m sorry I said those things,” he admitted, with a sideways glance at Trenton. “I was young, and stupidly protective of my pride. I should have listened.” A smile quirked on his mouth. “I took your advice,” he added. “And read some of those books.” He dropped her hands, patted Trent on the shoulder. “You’re a lucky man.”

“Oh,” Trent replied. “Believe me, I know.” And gave Marnie a smile that sent a thrill to her core.

“Now,” Rasmus continued, with a wicked grin. “Who’s the cute brunette?”

“Stay away from Susan,” Marnie growled through gritted teeth. “You have a wife. Where is Lily today?”

Rasmus held up his hands in mock surrender. “She’s sick,” he said, his tone sad. “She doesn’t go out anymore. Hasn’t since...” ("since the baby died," Marnie finished in her head.) 

“Would you like me to visit her? Is there anything I can do to help?”

He shook his head. “No,” he said grimly. “There’s not anything that anyone can do.”

*

February 1993

“We’ve got our first booking for Riverside.” Trent set Marnie’s coffee mug on the table, went back to claim his own, and sat down opposite. “A single mother and her son. I warned her about the river – that there’s no fence – but she assures me he’s a sensible kid and has grown up around water.”

“How long are they staying for?” Steam tickled Marnie’s nose.

“I’ve signed them up for six months, but with the possibility of extending it if they like the place.” He leaned towards her, smelling sweet of mowed grass, and earth. “I get the feeling that she’s trying to hide, start her life afresh.”

“I can empathize with that,” she said. “I hope they’re not hiding from someone.”

“Yeah, me too.” He leaned back on his chair, the early morning sunshine making his hair shimmer. He hadn’t yet shaved – preferring to shower in the evening, and stubble dotted his cheeks.

“Should we warn her about the ghost and the tower?” 

Marnie shook her head. “It’s probably best we leave poor Lily alone.” And cautioning people against the tower would just invoke curiosity, and lead them there. 

She’d attempted to visit Rasmus in his tower, a few weeks after the wedding, to check on Lily. Rasmus had answered the door, looking haggard and haunted. Behind him, somewhere out of sight, she could hear Lily screaming like a banshee and the smashing of plates.

“Her grief has driven her mad,” he whispered. “Please, just leave us.”

Marnie had resisted the desire to interfere, worried that would make the situation worse, and left, her heart aching for her friend, and for this fey woman destroyed by grief. “Is there anything we can do?” she’d asked Marlon later that night, over the phone.

“No,” he’d replied. “I’ve made every suggestion. He won’t take her to a specialist – I think he’s worried they’ll lock her up. And, well, now Jenkins is gone, she has no-one else.” Jenkins had died in a (presumed) accident in Darkhaven – he’d been found, drowned in the lake – a year or so back. “I guess, we can only hope she gets over it, somehow.” Lily did leave the tower on occasion. When it rained, she would walk barefoot through the woods, wearing nothing but her long white nightdress.

It was Trent who’d seen her the first time, told Marnie that, “I really thought I was seeing a ghost.” And the label had stuck.

Aside from troubled neighbors, ranch life suited both of them, and there was always plenty of work for a rural vet in the Stardew Valley area.

The cottage had lain empty since her grandparents had found a nice ‘retirement home’ in Grampleton and moved out just before Winter Star. It had required very little maintenance to turn it into a very pleasant retreat – for perhaps an artist or, someone who wanted to hide from the world.

* 

The new tenant knocked on their door the next day. She was beautiful, with tanned skin and long, dark hair, that in the right light, showed a hint of red. Her son fidgeted slightly at her side. Marnie wasn’t great at guessing the age of kids, but thought he might be four, maybe five. He regarded her with serious blue eyes, a ragged teddy bear clutched to his chest.

“Hello,” she said, the faintest lilt of an accent in her voice. “I’m Catriona Cavanagh, and this is Shane.”

Shane managed a shy smile. “Hi,” he said, trying to hide behind the loose strands of hair that framed his round face. He held up the bear.

“And this is Teddy,” Catriona finished. 

Marnie smiled, introduced herself, and took them down to see the cottage. She’d taken great care in preparing it, and grinned in pride as Shane darted around, opening every door – cupboard and otherwise – and exclaiming loudly what he found behind it. “Brooms! Toilet! My room? Is this my room! Please, please, please!”

Upon hearing a child was moving in, Marnie had scavenged round the town residents. She’d managed to collect quite a few books and toys, and even found...

“...Wow! A train set!”

It was very definitely pre-loved, but Shane didn’t seem to care, and immediately scuttled over to play with it.

“It’s lovely,” Catriona said, after they’d completed the tour. “We’re going to enjoy staying here very much. Do you have children of your own?”

“Not yet,” Marnie replied. “But we’d like to someday.” She glanced at Shane, making chug-chug-chug noises with the train then derailing it spectacularly. “Someday soon.”

“How would you feel,” Catriona sounded tentative, “about, occasionally, but not very often, mind, keeping an eye on Shane.”

“Oh! I’d be honored.”

A few days later, Catriona came and knocked on the door, beaming like a school-girl, son in tow. “I just met your neighbor,” she said. “The one that lives in that awesome tower. He’s invited me over to have dinner with him. Um, would you mind keeping an eye on Shane – just for a few hours? I’ll be home before midnight.”

“Rasmus. I mean, Rasmodius?” Marnie felt the bottom fall out of her stomach.

“Yes, you know him? Oh that’s a silly question – of course you know him. Isn’t he gorgeous.” She giggled. Actually giggled. “So, would you mind watching Shane?”

“Be careful,” Marnie warned her. “Rasmodius exudes sexual charm but he brings trouble.” 

Catriona’s eyes flashed, momentarily, cold. “Sometimes,” she growled, “sex is all you need, and as for trouble, well.” She shrugged, grinned dangerously. “That just adds a bit of extra spice. Now, will you look after the kid, or not?”

“Of course,” Marnie replied, feeling a little shaken. But Rasmus had been her friend, and surely deserved the benefit of the doubt – so she swallowed and replied, albeit through gritted teeth, “That would be fine. I’d love to.” Then, as an afterthought, whispered, “Just – please be careful.”

“Do you love him?” Shane asked, his blue eyes bright and serious. “Because my daddy didn’t love mommy. That’s why we’re here.”

How did you respond to a comment like that? “Well, yes. Yes, I do love him,” she managed. “That’s why I married him. Um, how about I read you a story? Which one would you like?” She laid out her small selection of picture books on the floor, and he studied them intently, face furrowed in concentration. Was Trent right? Had they come here to hide? Had his father hurt him – hurt them? She found her hands had clenched into fists; she couldn’t abide the thought of anyone hurting this precious child.

Cyndi strolled into the room and paused to study the newcomer, then strolled over to give him the once over. 

“Hi kitty,” he said, looked up at Marnie. “What’s his name?”

“Her name,” Marnie replied, “is Cyndi.”

“Hi Cyndi.” He reached out to touch her, then jerked back when she arched forward to sniff his fingers. “Are you a nice kitty?”

“Most of the time,” Marnie answered, since the cat couldn’t talk for herself. “But you have to be gentle with her. She doesn’t like having her fur or her tail pulled.”

“I wouldn’t!” He pouted at her, indignant. “Mom says be nice to animals, and they’ll be nice to you.”

“Your mom is very wise.” Marnie knelt down beside them. “She likes it best when you scratch her here, behind the ears.” Cyndi rewarded her actions with a deep rumbling purr, and Shane inched closer, very tentatively touched her.

“She’s soft. Like Teddy. Why is her motor rumbling?”

Marnie laughed. “That’s her purring. It means she’s happy. She likes you.”

“Good,” he beamed at her. “Cos I like her too.”

Marnie thought about his question later. Did she love Trent? Well, he was kind-hearted, gentle with his hands, and always good for conversation. So yes, she did love him. Sure, there was none of that heart-racing kind of lust that she’d seen in the movies – or read about in books – but that was definitely over-rated. That wasn’t really love; theirs was more comfortable, like friends who occasionally enjoyed ripping each others’ clothes off and seeing what noises one could tease out of the other. And, when it came down to it, wasn’t that the best kind? The kind that lasted? 

She walked into the bedroom that had once been hers, at the tiny figure curled up in the middle of a bed far too large for him. His long dark hair spread across the pillow, arms wrapped tight around Teddy, and felt something in her heart swell with tenderness, with love. She perched herself lightly on the edge of the bed, tracing her fingers down the soft warmth of his cheek. He murmured, smiled faintly, but didn’t wake.


	20. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catriona delivers some unexpected news.

“I want a baby,” Marnie informed Trent at breakfast.

Her husband tilted the skillet, covering it with egg. “Fried or scrambled?” he asked.

She laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“Of course I do,” he replied. “You sure about that?”

Marnie nodded. She’d never been so sure of anything in her life. 

“They’re not all like him, you know.” Trent nodded at Shane, who was industriously drawing circles and colorful squiggles on a piece of paper. “Some are little demons.” But he was grinning at her, his eyes gleaming with delight.

She laughed, mimed throwing the tea towel at it. He pretended to catch it with one hand. “Don’t you think,” she said, “that with our good influence, we could make a perfect little angel?”

He snorted at that, turned off the heat, and set the skillet to one side, before walking over to wrap his arm around her and plant a kiss upon her lips. “Marnie Harmony Jacobson,” he said, “if you want a baby, then a baby we shall have.” He glanced at the small child sitting, cross-legged, in the corner of the room. “But first, breakfast. Scrambled eggs and mushrooms. What do you say, Shane?”

Crayon discarded, the boy jumped up and ran towards the table. “Yes please!”

Trent intercepted him mid-way, tackled him into a hug and lifted him, giggling, into the air, plonking him onto his chair, piled high with cushions. 

Catriona finally came to collect him mid-morning, sending Brandy, their golden retriever, into a frenzy of barking.

“Mommy!” Shane barreled into her, wrapped his arms around her knees. “I helped so much! We collected eggs, and one of the chickens pecked me on the hand, but it didn’t hurt, not really – because I’m a big, brave boy – and she wasn’t doing it cos she was mean, but because I was tryin’ to steal her egg and she wanted to protect it.” A pause for breath. “We collected hundreds and hundreds of eggs, then Mr Jacobson cooked them all up into a really, really hu-mon-geous omelet and we ate it with mushrooms we picked ourselves!”

Catriona patted him on the head. “That’s nice pet,” she said. Then to Marnie, “Thanks for watching him.” Her lips looked swollen, flushed red, and she seemed to be practically glowing with happiness. No question as to where she’d been all night – and what she’d been up to. Marnie bit her lip. She shouldn’t judge – and certainly shouldn’t feel that faint stab of jealousy; she had a husband now, who loved her very much (but do you love him? Marnie? Really love him?) – Damn it... Rasmodius was such a man-whore. “He’ll break your heart,” she wanted to say. But she didn’t say it, couldn’t say it, because then she’d just sound jilted and bitter, and Catriona probably wouldn’t believe her anyway. Instead, she said, “It was our pleasure. Shane’s a great kid. But...” her voice quieter, but she knew if she didn’t say it, she’d regret it. “Please be careful. Ras... well, he has a bit of a... reputation.” And a wife. 

Catriona’s eyes narrowed into an expression so familiar that Marnie almost laughed. Catriona thought she was jealous? “Anyway, we better go now,” she said. “Go on Shane, grab your stuff.”

“Can I come back?” he asked Marnie. How could anyone resist those puppy-dog eyes? She was powerless before them. “Puh-lease?”

“Anytime your mom wants you to.” She surrendered, knew that Catriona would exploit her ruthlessly as a baby-sitter, but not particularly caring.

*

May 1993

Catriona and Shane arrived on her doorstep. Catriona’s eyes were bloodshot, her skin flushed – but not with passion, with sorrow. Her hand clutched Shane’s so tight that he was trying to squirm away.

“Come in,” Marnie urged them. “Trent’s out, on the farm. Do you need an herbal tea? Or a hot chocolate?”

The latter was directed at Shane, but his mother nodded. “Please,” she whispered. “We’ve come to say goodbye.”

“I don’t wanna say goodbye!” Shane whined. He managed to tug free of his mother’s grip and ran to Marnie, wrapping his arms around her legs. “I wanna stay with Auntie Marnie forever and ever and ever, and help her look after the chickens and... and...”

Catriona looked grief-stricken. Marnie’s heart ached for her, even though, over the last four months, Shane had spent far more time with her than with his own mother. She disentangled Shane from her leg (he protested, but settled for holding her hand instead), and guided the woman over to the table.

“Shane,” she said, kneeling down to look the child in the eyes. “How about you go and draw your mom a picture? That’ll cheer her up. You know where the crayons are, right?” He nodded, face serious, and scampered off. 

“Right,” said Marnie. “I predict we’ve got maybe five, ten minutes, before he’s back to show you his masterpiece. I’ll put the kettle on, and you can tell me why you’re leaving.” She rested her hand on Catriona’s, shocked at how much she was shaking. “But only, only if you want to.” She stood, put the kettle on, and studied her selection of herbal teas. Something suitable for heartache, perhaps? She settled on chamomile. Setting the cups to steep between them, she shuffled into a chair opposite the woman. And waited. It didn’t take long. Catriona was, clearly, desperate to tell someone. “I’m pregnant,” she croaked.

Marnie felt it like a kick in the womb. Sure, she and Trent had only been trying for a few months, but it still felt so unfair. Catriona already had a beautiful child – and, clearly, she wasn’t happy to be expecting another.

“Have you told him?” Marnie asked. “The father, I mean?” Damn you, Rasmodius.

Catriona nodded, biting her lip, and blinking back tears. “He told me that he’s already married,” she croaked. “And... suggested I get rid of it. Said... said his spawn are nothing but a curse. Those exact words.”

“Shit,” Marnie whispered. He’d fallen so much farther than she’d thought. She clasped Catriona’s hands in hers, squeezed them tight. “You weren’t... taking precautions. Shit, sorry. It’s not my place to ask.”

Catriona laughed, a hollow, sobbing laugh. “You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you swear before. It’s quite refreshing. And he’s a goddamn wizard – I thought he had some sort of mystical contraception spell.”

The bastard. “Ras and I were friends once,” Marnie replied. “Close friends. He has the ability of drawing very strong emotions out of anyone who gets close to him. But I still can’t believe he’s treating you like this. What are you going to do?” Anger seethed in her. She hated to see people hurting.

“I’m not aborting her,” Catriona declared, pressed her hand on her belly. “But I – we – can’t stay here either. Not...” Not with him nearby.

She’s scared, Marnie realized with a start – scared Rasmodius might hurt his own child. Daughter? “Will you... keep her? I mean, raise her yourself?”

“Are you offering to adopt her?” Catriona spluttered. Marnie hadn’t actually considered the idea, wasn’t sure if Catriona was outraged, or grateful that someone – an almost-stranger – would consider it.

She settled for the former. “No, of course not! It just must be so hard...” on your own with a child, another on the way, and nowhere to call home.

“We’ll manage,” she said. Whispered, “Somehow.”

“Well, Shane – and you, all of you – are always welcome here.” Marnie squeezed her hand.

Catriona laughed hollowly. “Why do I feel like I’m the plus one in that? But, seriously,” her fingers wrap tight around Marnie’s hand. “I’ll keep it in mind. Shane’s very fond of you. And, well, I’m not exactly great at making friends.” A rueful laugh. “Or choosing men.”

“Hey.” Marnie offers her a shaky laugh. “You won’t be the first woman who’s fallen for Ras’s charm.”

“And I doubt I’ll be the last,” she returned, gave Marnie a sideways look. “You too, eh?”

“In my defense, I was a hormonal teenager.” Marnie removed the tea bags and set them to one side. 

“And I was a horny solo mom. Fuck.” Catriona leaned back.

“Mommy swore!” Shane burst back into the room, waving a piece of paper like a flag. “I drawed you a chicken! It’s eating a fox!”

They left the next day. 

Marnie cleaned out the guest cottage, sobbed at the pile of Shane’s indecipherable pictures, left taped to the fridge, the battered copy of ‘where the wild things are’ lying under the bed – and almost felt her heart break when she found, sitting on the bed, a battered teddy bear, clutching a crude illustration of a heart, around which Catriona had printed the words, “Teddy will look after you. Love Shane.”

*

January 1994

Marnie turned the letter over in her hands, wondering who it was from. The postmark told her nothing – it was from a small town she’d never heard of. She took it inside, sat down at her desk and carefully sliced it open. Inside, there was no letter, just a piece of printed newsprint, and a photograph.

The newsprint was a birth notice, announcing the arrival of one ‘Mona Cavanagh’, born 3rd January, weighing in at 5lb 9oz. It was the photograph, however, that cut her to the core. Shane, grinning from ear to ear, with a tiny wrapped bundle, her face barely visible, cradled in his arms. 

On the back, scrawled in Catriona’s neat, tight script: “Love from Cat, Shane & Mona.”

Trent found his wife sitting in the kitchen, sobbing over the photograph, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He pressed a kiss upon her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I’ve failed to give you what you want the most.”

“There’s still hope,” she whispered, setting the photograph carefully back in its envelope and placing it reverently on the table. “Ten months isn’t really that long a time to try.” To fail. But she knew that was a lie. It was all the time in the world.


	21. Bad Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuelled with outrage at his behaviour, Marnie pays a heated visit to Rasmodius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: heed the title. Implied self harm/suicide attempt.

February 1994

Marnie rapped on the door of the wizard’s tower, fueled with anger. No answer. On a whim, she tried the handle – hardly anyone bothered to lock their door in Pelican Town – but she was still surprised when it swung open. Of all the residents she’d thought might be protective of their abodes, Rasmus topped the list.

“Rasmus?” she called. “Rasmodius?”

Silence. Perhaps he’d stepped out?

A worried, whining ‘mrrrow’, and Magnus padded out into the room. He studied Marnie with his inscrutable golden eyes.

“Hey boy,” she whispered. “Where’s your wizard?”

He butted his head against her leg, trotted to the door at the back of the room, and turned back to look at her. Dutifully, Marnie followed.

The kitchen was a mess, the counter littered with dirty bowls and cutlery. A fruit bowl filled with rotting fruit and buzzed with fruit flies. “Shit Rasmus,” she whispered. What was going on here? Had his place always been such a dump?

The cat padded up a flight of stairs at the back of the room, past the bedroom (where the sheets lay in tangled disarray, and books and clothes – and a couple more plates – were strewn across the floor) and onto the spiral staircase that lead into the tower. Marnie had been here only once or twice before – it had been a rather romantic place to watch the sunset. She’d suggested to Rasmus that it should be the bedroom – but he’d commented that the only way to get the bed up the spiral staircase would have been to dismantle it and reassemble it.

It had been empty then, save for a couple of beanbags and a mini-fridge, but now it had been turned into a nursery. A crib stood in the center of the room, and it must’ve been built in there, because it was massive and ornate. Above it hung a mobile with a sun, a moon, and a number of stars. It turned slightly in the breeze from the open window. There were other furnishings too, a bookcase, a desk covered in paper and pencils, and a canopy bed, piled high with bedding.

It took Marnie a moment to realize that the bedding was clothing – and that the clothing was actually a person.

“Rasmus?” she ran to his side. He twitched, made a sort of odd whimpering noise, but didn’t wake. “Rasmus?” His skin was clammy, feverish, both arms bare, and crusted in blood. So much blood, the sheets were stiff with it. She slapped his face. “Please, wake up! Dammit Rasmus!”

There was no telephone – of course there was no phone. Rasmus had complained that the magic and technology were not a good mix. And she couldn’t – wouldn’t – leave him. He groaned again, his eyes opening into mere slits. They were almost completely blood-shot.

“Marnie?” he whispered. His voice sounded raw, like it had been sand-papered from his throat.

“What have you done to yourself?” she demanded.

He waved one closed hand vaguely in the air. She pried open his fingers, and found slivers of red mushroom crushed in his palm.

“Are you trying to kill yourself? Where’s Lily?”

“Shessh gone,” he slurred, saliva trailing from his mouth. “Left me.”

“To get help?” Prayed that was the case, but knew it wasn’t.

“I wassh a fool. Shesssh gone.”

Think, Marnie, think. Pretend he’s a dog. What do you do when a dog has eaten something poisonous? 

“Activated charcoal,” she snapped. “Have you got any?”

He merely groaned in response. Somehow, she wrestled him into the recovery position – then left him to run downstairs, into the walk-in pantry. The walls were lined with glass jars, filled with an array of ingredients ranging from ordinary (pickles) to bizarre (toad’s eyeballs), but she finally found one containing a black powder labeled as ‘charcoal’. Hopefully it would work. It had to work. She grabbed a spoon as well, and poured a glass of water, then raced back upstairs.

He’d vomited, she saw immediately, and was twitching, fingers flexing, and whimpering to himself.

Probably hallucinating, she thought. At least the vomiting would get some of the poison out of his system.

She helped him upright. He wriggled and whimpered against her. “Lily,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I loved too much.” Then groped at Marnie’s breast. She batted his hand away, braced him against her, and starting spoon feeding him charcoal as though he were a baby.

“I don’t like the sand,” he said. “Keep the shadows away.”

“Sssh,” she whispered, stroking his hair, and cradling him as he, in turn cursed, then screamed, and finally sobbed against her breast, his entire body shaking. After what seemed like a small chunk of eternity, the charcoal either worked, or the toxins passed through his system, and he slumped against her, his breathing regular, punctuated with the occasional snoring snort.

She stripped the soiled blankets from around him as best she could (vomit, blood, piss, it appeared everything had been purged), tucked the cushions in around him – in case he threw up again – and went downstairs to clean off and dump the dirty sheets into the large metal tub he used for washing.

Then she loaded coal into the stove, ignited it, and jogged back up the stairs to check on Rasmus.

Still asleep. But definitely looking more peaceful.

Downstairs, and the stove was finally hot enough to start heating the kettle. 

Another jog upstairs – she was going to get super-fit carrying on like this. He was still asleep, so back down to brew herself a coffee.

She sat beside Rasmus’s sleeping form, sipping the bitter brew. If only she could run home and get Trent, he’d know what to do – but he was off on a call out in Fairview, where a horse had become tangled in a fence. She could go home, call someone – but that would mean leaving Rasmus alone.

She swept the hair back from his eyes. His skin was slick with sweat, but he didn’t feel feverish.

Noise from the front room. 

“Hello? Rasmus? Are you home?”

Marlon? Thank Yoba!

She bounded down the stairs, and threw herself into Marlon’s arms so enthusiastically that he almost dropped her. “Marn? What are you doing here? Are you okay?” Magnus sat by the door, grooming himself and looking smug.

“I’m fine,” she said, half-sobbing with relief. “But it’s Rasmus. Lily’s left him, and I think he may have tried to kill himself.”

“Fuck,” Marlon muttered, then added, “Sorry. Where is he?”

“In the nursery.” She took his hand, dragged him up the stairs. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“You can thank Magnus for that,” he said. “I was up in Darkhaven, helping Roland deal with an infestation of rock crabs, and suddenly that great big cat is there, insisting I leave with him. Shit.” They’d entered the tower room, and he ran to Rasmus’s side. “What did he take?”

“Fly agaric, I’m pretty sure.”

A relieved sigh. “Thank Yoba. They’re mostly hallucinatory. Probably an accidental bad trip, rather than an actual suicide attempt. Crazy bastard,” he said, affection in his voice.

“You’re the crazy bastard,” Rasmus mumbled. “Fuck. Why does my head feel like it’s trying to explode and my tongue taste like I’ve been licking the fireplace?”


	22. Desperate Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marnie tends to a recovering Rasmodius. But even now she's married, and armed with knowledge about his integrity, can she still resist his dark-eyed charms?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: infidelity.  
> (and something else sad and potentially triggering, but I don't want to put the warning because it's a spoiler. So, um, proceed with caution?)

“You going to be okay?” Marlon asked Marnie, his brow furrowed in concern.

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “We’ll be fine,” Marnie replied. “I’m a married woman now – his sexy dark eyes and smoldering smile no longer have any power over me.” “That wasn’t what I mean, and you know it.” He storm-cloud eyes were serious. “I can stay with him all day, if you like.”

“It’ll be fine, honest. Did you even get any sleep last night?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “He’s still having screaming nightmares and kept trying to pull out his hair.”

“Right,” Marnie replied. “Go home, get some sleep, and I’ll spend the day with him.”

“If you need help, call. Okay?”

She stared dubiously at the cellular phone. It was Trent’s, his out-in-the-field work phone, but he was working from home today, so she’d borrowed it. “I promise. As long as I can figure out how to make this thing work. Is he up yet?”

Marlon sighed. “He’s showering. Thank Yoba he has hot water, since he doesn’t have anything else. Have you tried making a coffee on that stove? Well, it’s heated now anyway, if you wanna cook anything.”

“I’ve got some eggs. Do you want to stay, eat with us?”

“No.” He barely covered a yawn. “I’ve got another situation to tend to around noon. Might see if I can’t get a couple of hours shut-eye in. Good luck Marns.” He leaned down, kissed her on the forehead. His scent was reassuring: soap and leather. It made her feel safe.

She watched him go, feeling a little vulnerable and weird. Last time she’d been here, well, the last time before yesterday, Rasmus had fucked her on the kitchen bench.

She hadn’t enjoyed the experience.

Still, they were back to friends now, and she was married. It wasn’t like he was going to quirk that sexy smile at her, and she would reflexively part her legs.

But shit, when he padded, barefoot, into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but admire the view. Towel hanging low around his hips, his hair a ruffled mess, as though he’d rubbed the towel through it and not even considered looking in the mirror. He was still too skinny, and his arms were a mess of freshly scabbed scratches, but she had to admit it, he was pretty damned hot.

“Marn,” his voice came at a low purr. “I didn’t expect you to be here. Are you and Marlon baby-sitting me?”

“Just for the next couple of days,” she replied, busying herself by scrambling the eggs around the skillet. He was standing too close, and dammit, he smelled sexy too. Even if it was mostly soap and his sexy-spicy darkness. “Until we’re sure the poison’s through your system.” Even though the sex had been mediocre at best, she couldn’t help the flicker of desire.

You’re married now Marnie. Behave.

But, truth be told, although she loved her husband very much, now that they were trying for a baby, sex had almost become a chore. Since the stop-using-protection-and-hope method hadn’t been successful, she was now counting the days since her period and using charts to figure out when she was at her most fertile. This both took out the spontaneity, and kinda killed the mood.

And here, inches from her, was Rasmus. He had fathered at least one beautiful child – and if her suspicions were true, there would soon be another.

“So,” she said, setting the plate of eggs and a coffee on the table. “Lily’s gone.”

Rasmus stared at her in shocked surprise. “Way to kick straight to the balls there, Marn,” he said. “Marriage has weakened your tact.”

“No,” she replied. “Having to spoon-feed you with charcoal and hold you while you sobbed and screamed and tried to grope me – that’s what’s weakened my tact. Why in the Void would you do that to yourself?”

He gave her a nonchalant shrug. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

She threw the dishrag at him. “Fuck Ras, if I hadn’t dropped by, you could’ve died! Even if the agaric hadn’t been enough, you could have choked in your vomit.” 

“What does it matter?” he mumbled, around a mouthful of eggs. “Who really gives a flying fuck about me, anyway?”

“Marlon,” she screamed. “Your mom. Me! So stop wallowing in your own goddamn misery.” She flung herself down into the chair opposite him. “You have a daughter, Rasmus. Don’t you give a damn about her?”

“What?” he looked up at her, and she saw how bleary his eyes were. “You mean... it didn’t die?”

“Cat didn’t abort the baby,” she said, more quietly. “Her name is Mona. And she’s beautiful.” She drew the photograph from her pocket, and pushed it across the table at him.

“Who’s the older kid?”

“Shane. Her brother. Good kid.”

“Fuck,” he whispered. “I’m a goddamn father. She’s beautiful. He better be the best big brother ever.”

She thought he might cry then, but he managed to choke it back. 

“Do you know how she left me?” he whispered.

Marnie shook her head. Give how fey and otherworldly Lily seemed, she wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d been called back to Elfhame – the mystic land from her childhood fairy-tales.

“She recovered,” he said. “If she was even mad in the first place. I’m not even sure anymore.” He shuddered and ruffled his hair. “I think she might’ve been conning me, Marn. All this goddamn time. She took my special inkwell, several of my books, and all the money I had stashed under the floorboards – more than enough for her to make a comfortable start, might I add. She left me a note, containing some rather harsh – and sadly, mostly true – accusations. And why, you might ask?”

Because you cheated on her? Marnie thought, but didn’t say it aloud.

“Because Caroline came over.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “She’s been having trouble conceiving with her husband, that Le Roux prat. And thought I, as the wizard, might have some sort of mystical cure.” He studied his hands. “There’s no mystical cure,” he admitted. “But there are other... options.”

“So you fucked her,” Marnie growled. She’d known, of course, had seen Caroline’s darting shape pass her window on no less than three occasions, since her kitchen overlooked the path. “And Lily caught you.”

“I’m not proud of my actions.”

“You told Cat to abort her baby, that your bloodline was a curse. Now you’re actively helping Caroline get pregnant.”

“I’d lost my son,” he said. “And my freaking father abandoned my mother. Of course my bloodline’s a curse. But she’s a Werner. And the Werner line needs a goddamn heir – especially since Marlon’s too damned stubborn to get married just to sire a child – but refuses to father a child out of wedlock. Catch fucking twenty-two.”

“What the f– ?” Don’t try and blame Marlon for the fact that you’re a filthy man-whore.”

“I’m not blaming Marlon,” he groaned. “He’s my best damn friend, despite all the shit I’ve put him through. Yoba, that we’ve put him through. That man has the patience of a goddamn saint. It’s just the freaking way it is. The Valley needs a wizard, but it also needs a warrior. Now, dickhead Oliver, my boring accountant half-brother, well he’s got himself a beautiful baby girl – and now, I guess, I’ve got Mona, so the Alexander line is fine. But if we lose the Werner line, then we lose the balance and the fucking Void will win.” “Holy freaking Yoba.” Marnie pushed the chair back and stood. “That is literally the worst excuse for adultery I’ve ever heard. Why not just admit that you couldn’t keep it in your pants, and you can’t resist taking advantage of a bloody woman in need of comfort.”

“Well, what would you do?” he asked, his voice husky. “If there was one thing you wanted in the world, almost more than anything, and the only thing that stood between you and it was that you’d chosen the wrong man to marry? Because, as damned adorable as you and pretty-boy Trent are together, he’s never going to be able to give you what you want.” “What the fuck do you know?” she crossed to him in two strides, and slapped him on the cheek. “I love Trent.”

Rasmus stepped back, touched his hand to his cheek, the flesh reddened. “I know you do,” he whispered. “But don’t you think, if he could father a child, than you’d be pregnant by now?”

Marnie was furious, but there was a heavy sinking feeling in her heart. He was right. Of course. “Are you offering your services as a stud bull?” she asked, and was shocked at the venom in her tone.

“Well, I wasn’t,” he said with a shrug. “But it appears that I, unlike certain other people, have no qualms against fathering children out of wedlock. I guess because I’m a filthy man-whore.” 

“Are you clean?” she growled, shocked that she would even consider this, that she might be so desperate for a child that she would commit adultery. “I’m not taking syphilis or anything nasty back to my husband.”

He held up his hands. “As a whistle. Do I need a certificate to prove it?” His towel was starting to take a distinctly tent-like appearance. For all his protestations, his body certainly wasn’t objecting to the idea.

“No,” she replied. “But I’ll kill you if it proves otherwise.”

“Oh,” he said, almost lightly. “I expect Marlon will kill me first anyway.” Then he closed the gap between them, and planted his lips on hers.

His kiss was hungry, almost greedy, his chin smooth and soft, fresh shaven. And his hands were gentle upon her. Less groping, and more caressing. Teasing. 

“You’ll see,” he purred in her ear. “That I’ve learned a few tricks... along the way.”

He guided her, one hand on her shoulders, to his bedroom. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” he said. “You could seduce Marlon, have yourself a warrior-baby, and save Caroline the honor.”

But it was too late now to consider the alternatives, and even if it were, Marlon deserved more than being her stud-bull. She was committed. She would let Rasmus fuck her, this one last time, and hope that his seed would bear fruit.

* 

Three weeks, five weeks, eight weeks, and still no sign of her period. Marnie dared to hope. She picked up a pregnancy test from the general store. Shrieked with delight when the results showed: Positive.

Trenton was as enthused by the news as she was, which filled her with guilt. If he had any idea that she’d been unfaithful, he didn’t let on.

They went to the doctor, had scans – saw the tiny child moving on the screen. It was like a miracle.

Twelve weeks. Sixteen weeks. 

Then she woke one morning, almost torn apart by the pain in her womb, to find the sheets stained with blood.

Trent rushed her to the clinic in his work van, but they both knew it was too late, their baby boy was gone. 


	23. In the Still of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phone calls in the middle of the night are never good news.   
> Although sometimes they change lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Mona and learn more of Shane's heritage.  
> Also, more bittersweet sadness. 
> 
> There's going to be quite a lot of sadness over the next twenty years or so, because it spans such a long time period, and thus I'm only portraying the more emotionally charged moments. Please just imagine that between chapters and sections, the family are experiencing many happy moments as well!

Winter 1997

The phone rang at 2am, blasting through the stillness of the house. Brandy raced through the house barking, and pawed at the bedroom door.

Marnie woke with a start, her heart pounding. The late night calls always did this, always made her worry that something had happened to her grandparents, although, more often than not, it was a some sort of animal-related emergency. She nudged her husband, “Wake up, we have a call-out.” She rolled from the bed, jogged into the kitchen. “Hello?” she gasped into the phone. “What’s happened?”

A scared, shaky voice answered her. “It’s me, Catriona. Cat. We’re at the train station. Please, we need your help.”

So many questions, but at the moment, only one mattered. “Are you alright? All of you?”

“Yes.” Her voice hitched in a sob. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“We’ll be right there. Keep warm, and stay together.”

The bitter chill spiked them instantly awake; winter had the valley firm in its grip. Trent drove with careful haste on the icy roads. He reached over, squeezed Marnie’s hand, sensing the panic that raced in her.

“They’ll be alright.”

The three of them were huddled beneath the tiny lantern.

“Thank Yoba,” Catriona breathed. Marnie swung herself out of the car, opened the back door. Shane studied her seriously. He’d grown into a gorgeous boy, with his long eyelashes, and deep blue eyes. Marnie wanted to wrap her arms around him, enfold him in a hug. But would he even remember her? It had been five years. 

“Auntie Marnie?” he whispered. 

She choked back a sob, opened her arms, and he ran in for a hug. 

An hour later, and the five of them sat by the fire, the adults sipping hot drinks. Mona, a beautiful three-year old with curly hair, so black that it seemed almost purple, had fallen asleep in her mother’s lap. Shane lay curled up with Brandy in the corner, sleepily stroking her silky ears. 

“Sorry to drop in on you like this,” Catriona explained. “But, well, we had nowhere else to go. He found us.”

Marnie felt a hand twist about her heart. Rasmodius? No, of course not – she wouldn’t be here if it were him. “Shane’s father?” she guessed.

A quick glance at the boy in the corner. “Yes,” she said. “He’s not... not a good man.”

“You better not be bringing trouble here,” Trent said, surprisingly fierce. His hand closed over Marnie’s, squeezing it. 

Catriona gave a choking sob, and Marnie scowled at her husband. “Trent,” she growled, shaking off his hand. “They need our help.”

He threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, I don’t want us to get messed up in some dark underworld sh– stuff.”

Marnie flinched, glanced at Shane.

“You won’t,” Catriona whispered. “I promise. I’ll make sure of it.” 

The next morning, the two children were still asleep, huddled together in the bed.

But Catriona had gone.

*

“Can you track her?” Marnie sat at the table in the wizard’s tower, regarding the spiced tea slightly suspiciously. “Is there a spell?”

Rasmodius regarded her sadly. “Has it occurred to you, perhaps, that sometimes people leave for a reason? That sometimes they may not want to be found?”

She slumped her head into her hands. “But how could she – just leave the kids here, like that? You should see them, Ras... your daughter... she’s beautiful.”

As our son would have been. She could read the thought in his eyes, feel the sorrow that weighed heavily on his shoulders. She’d miscarried early enough that the fetus hadn’t had the chance to officially become a person, but they’d brought him home, in a tiny wooden box, and buried him in her memorial garden.

She’d named him Benjamin.

Once, when Trent was out in the field. She’d walked around the house, to see Rasmodius kneeling in front of the memorial stone, beside the seedling they’d planted in Benjamin’s memory. Without a word, she’d knelt beside him, traced her finger down the tears that dampened his cheeks, and kissed him on the forehead.

He’d taken her hand in his, entwined their fingers, and squeezed. They’d knelt like that until her feet went numb, and her eyes had clouded with tears.

How sad it must be for him, and how lonely, to have children out there, but not be able to acknowledge their existence, and to have lost a child that he could only mourn in private. “We could try again?” he’d suggested, shakily.

But Marnie had shaken her head. “No,” she had whispered. One heart-break had been enough; she was not sure she’d survive another.

“She left them with you because she trusts you, Marnie.” Rasmodius’s words drew her from her memories. “Trusts you to love them, and raise them as your own – to give them the security that she could not.”

“Will you meet her, one day?” she asked. “Please. She deserves to know her father.”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “But, please, let her have a normal childhood first – or as normal a childhood as one can have, in Stardew Valley.” He rolled up his sleeve, exposing his scar-riddled arm. “Trent will be a far better father than I. And yes, there is a spell. It’s simple enough, merely requires a sample of DNA. But what will you do, if you find her?”

Marnie hadn’t the answer to that, because, Catriona knew where they were and if she wished to return, then she would.

* 

Spring 1998

Shane sprinted through the door, waving an envelope above his head. “There’s a letter!” he said, handing it to Marnie. “It’s mommy’s handwriting, but it’s got your name on it, so I didn’t open it. But, what’s she written? Is she coming back to live with us?”

Marnie slit open the envelope with the bread knife, and drew out the newsprint within. No letter, just a clipping, crudely torn from a newspaper. At first glance, the article, which detailed a fatal fiery car wreck, made no sense.

“Shane?” she asked. “Do you know someone called Anthony Vallance?”

“Yes,” he replied, without a moment’s hesitation. “That’s my dad’s name. Why? Has he done something bad? Are we in trouble?”

“No,” she said, and knelt down, so she could wrap her arms around him. “We’re not in trouble.” She kissed him on the forehead. “And, he hasn’t done anything bad. He’s... he’s gone. Dead.” She pondered how to explain this further, unsure how to talk to an eight-year old about death, or even if he’d understand the concept.

But Shane just nodded. “Dead, like Brenna?” The fluffy black cat had been humanely euthanized two months ago, after she’d become gravely ill. They’d held a funeral for her, and planted a catnip bush in her honor. 

“Yes,” Marnie replied. “Like Brenna. It’s okay to be sad,” she added.

“I’m not sad,” Shane declared. “He was a very bad man. I’m glad we’re safe from him now. And Mommy can come home, and live with us here – on the ranch.”

“I’m afraid she’s dead,” Trent said gently, studying the article later that night, after the kids were in bed. He pointed out the line that Marnie hadn’t dared read aloud: “...Anthony Vallance, and an unidentified female companion were reported dead at the scene....” He rested his hand on hers, and squeezed it. “Do you want me to ring the police in Zuzu, see if they’ll give me a description?”

She shook her head, then sighed. “Yes, please.” It felt almost as though she were killing Catriona herself, but Shane deserved to know – and at least then, she wouldn’t spend the rest of her life wondering. “But if she’s dead, then who posted the letter?”

“A friend, perhaps?” Trent picked up the article and went into the other room. She heard his voice, murmuring low. Marnie rested her head on her arms and tried not to eavesdrop.

“Inconclusive,” he said upon his return. “Approximate age, eye color, they fit. The hair doesn’t – but that’s easily changed. They have some leads, but they wouldn’t tell me. Suggested if you wanted to know for certain, you’d need to go to Zuzu, see her for yourself. But they warned me, it’s not a pretty sight.”

He wrapped his arms around her, and she sobbed into his shoulder. And, despite the ache of not knowing, the thought of seeing Catriona laid out, cold and dead and probably burned, made her feel sick to the stomach. 

“I can’t leave the kids,” she said. “They need me.”

“I know,” her husband replied. “Would you like me to go?”

“Please.” Marnie’s heart ached with love for him, for this man who would travel for hours, to identify a corpse of a woman he barely knew just to bring her closure. “If it is her,” she added, “then she planned this.” Planned to murder her ex and kill herself. To protect her children. 

“I know,” he whispered. “But would you do anything less?”

He drove out the next morning. When he arrived home, to find Marnie pacing anxiously, the look on his face said it all.

“I can’t be one hundred percent,” he said. “But yes, I’m fairly certain. It’s her. Catriona Cavanagh is dead.”

Marnie let out a sob. “How am I going to tell Shane?”

She didn’t, not right away, still hoping that there had been a mistake, that Cat might reach out to them.

One month passed, then another, without a letter, or any news at all, until several months had passed.

“I don’t think Mom’s coming back,” Shane said to her one day, while he helping her collect eggs in the hen house, and Mona ran around, trying to catch the chickens. “I think she’s forgotten us.”

“She hasn’t forgotten you,” Marnie whispered, squeezing him tight. “She could never forget you!”

“Maybe she hit her head and got am-me-sia or something?” he wondered. “Or she was on a plane, and it got lost in the jungle, and now she’s fighting snakes and tigers and evil poachers to try and get back to us.” Then he added, more solemnly, “Or maybe something bad happened to her.” His blue eyes regarded her, huge and serious. “Do you think she’s dead?”

Marnie nodded mutely, squeezing this child she loved as fiercely as though he were her own. “She died to protect you,” she whispered. “You and Mona. And keep the bad people away.” She kissed him on the forehead. “Your mom died a hero.”

He went quiet and solemn in her arms. She stroked his hair.

“It’s okay to cry,” she reassured him. 

Mona, sensing the change in mood, padded over to see what was happening.

“Mom’s never coming back,” Shane told her pragmatically, and broke away from Marnie to give her a hug. His eyes glittered with unspent tears. “She’s gone, like Simba’s dad. And Bambi’s mom.”

Mona’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Gone. Gone bye-bye?” 

“Yes,” Marnie replied, hoisting Mona in her arms, braced her against her hip. “Gone bye-bye.”

“We can stay here, Auntie Marnie? Can’t we?” And Marnie’s heart ached at how forlorn Shane sounded. “You’ll look after us, and love us, until we’re big enough to look after ourselves. Right? Please?”

Marnie placed a kiss upon his forehead. “I promise you, Shane Cavanagh, that I will look after you always, and love you forever. Even when you’re big enough to look after yourself.” 

* 

“We should adopt them,” Marnie suggested. “Can we? I mean, would you be willing to do that?”

“Of course!” Trent sounded indignant she might think otherwise. “But... if we set that in motion, there’s a chance – a fairly slim chance, but a chance none-the-less – that we might lose them. And I do not want them getting lost in the foster system. Not the way... the way I was.”

Trent hadn’t talked much about growing up as an orphan. All she really knew was that he’d been passed from home to home, been bullied, overlooked, and made to feel like a burden for most of his childhood years. That was until, as an older teenager, that he was fostered by the Bennetts. They had nurtured his love of animals, and supported him through the Veterinarian course – even when he was ‘aged out’ of the system.

“We could apply to be foster parents,” Marnie suggested. “Give them, and maybe other kids, the chance the Bennetts gave you? Then, after a few years, legally apply to adopt them.”

“That,” he replied, kissing her. “Sounds like a most excellent idea indeed.”

* 

Shane came running in with the letter, almost a year later. They’d been multiple forms, interviews, and several inspections of the ranch, but...

“We passed!” Marnie shrieked in delight, and hugged her husband. 

… They were now, officially, part of the Ferngill Foster system.


	24. The Egg Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail and Mona want to be friends. For obvious reasons, Caroline doesn't approve.  
> Also, Abby has always been super competitive with the Egg Hunt.

Spring Break 1999

“Shane?” Marnie asked, her fingers deftly trying to tame the wild curl that was Mona’s hair. “Can you run down to the cottage and see if JJ and Auntie Emma are ready yet?”

Shane, looking very smart in a button-up blue shirt, and with his equally unruly hair tamed with copious amounts of gel, saluted. “Aye aye capt’n.” He bolted out the door. “Ow,” Mona muttered. “You tugged me!”

“Sorry pet.” Marnie tied off the braids and added a pink bow. “All done.” She held up the mirror so the five-year old could admire her new ‘do. “Do you like it?”

Mona grinned at her, gave her a thumbs up. “Can I wear my princess dress? And some of your jewelry?”

“Of course, but remember, today is all about finding eggs, so you need to be able to run real fast.”

“I can run super-fast! Will Abby be there?”

A flicker of guilt at that. Marlon had brought his niece over a couple of months ago; he’d been baby-sitting so that her parents could enjoy a ‘date-night’ in Grampleton. They’d had an uproariously good time, with Mona introducing Abigail to all the animals, then retired to the lounge to build their own farm out of Lego (Marlon had added a spaceship and a castle, but that was by-the-by) and watch Disney movies, singing along with Cinderella (Marlon had a surprisingly good baritone, and even managed to coax a few verses out of Marnie).

Caroline had been furious. She had, she declared, set only one rule – that Abigail and Mona not become friends.

“But they’re sisters – well, half-sisters,” Marlon said to Marnie, in a hushed voice, “they deserve to at least get to know each other.” It didn’t matter; Marlon had been absolved of baby-sitting duties, and from then on, Abigail had gone to stay with Jodi (and her son, three-year old Sam) on their weekly ‘date-night’.

Mona couldn’t understand why she wasn’t allowed to see her new playmate again. “But Uncle Marlon’s here always!” (An exaggeration, he came to visit once, twice a week, at most, usually ‘dropping by’ while on his way to visit Rasmodius). “It’s not fair.”

“I expect she’ll be there,” Marnie replied lightly. And Caroline will be none too pleased, but that’s not my problem. She helped Mona into her pink princess dress. The bodice sparkled with glass jewels and the skirt was layers of organza. Mona did a little twirl, then began digging through Marnie’s box of costume jewelry.

“I wanna wear this one,” she said, holding up the frozen tear. “It’s got an M on it. M is for Mona.”

“Too right it is,” Marnie declared. Her heart ached with love. She took off the gemstone, threaded it onto a shorter chain, and hung it around the girl’s neck. “Now you’re a real princess,” she said, and kissed her on the forehead.

Shane returned a short while later, Emma and JJ in tow. 

“I was hoping Jasper would be back in time,” Emma admitted. His expeditions into the mines were getting longer, more intense, and Marnie could see the worry in his wife’s eyes. He had focused his studies on demihumans, the non-human people that had, legends said, inhabited the Ferngill republic prior to human occupation: goblins, elves – and dwarfs.

“Like Snow White?” Mona had asked him, her eyes wide, when he’d joined them for dinner before heading off on his expedition.

“Kind of,” he’d informed her solemnly. “In that they’re short, and work underground. But with less singing.” 

“Tell Dopey I like him the bestest,” she’d requested. And Jasper had reassured her that he would.

*

The walk to the town square was a pleasant one. Marnie had always loved the smell of spring, and the way everything seemed so crisp and bright. Trent shepherded the two boys, wrapped up in conversation about the latest craze: some sort of game where kids captured cute animals, and made them fight one another. Marnie wasn’t sure she approved – it felt a little too much like glorified dog fighting to her.

“But, it’s okay, you see,” Shane had tried to explain it to her. “They have fun – it’s kinda like a sport to them.”

Marnie remained unconvinced.

“I’m worried I’ll lose him,” Emma confided in Marnie, while Mona skipped alongside them, picking daffodils. “That one day, he might go in, and not come back – and I’ll never know if he’s dead, or if he’s found what he’s looking for, and decided to stay there forever. It’s become his obsession. It doesn’t help that his colleagues treat him like it’s all some kind of joke.”

Marnie reached out and took the other woman’s hand, gave it a gentle squeeze. “Surely he’d never abandon you and JJ. He loves you both so very much.”

“Sometimes I wonder if that’s enough,” she replied. “You haven’t heard the way his peers talk about him. Ever since he proposed his outlandish theory about the origins of the dwarfs, they’ve mocked him. It doesn’t help that some people don’t even believe that dwarfs and goblins even existed in the first place.”

“Do you believe him though?”

“Well, yes,” Emma replied, biting her lip. “Of course. But he’s my husband!”

Marnie gave her a quick hug. “I’ve heard some pretty outlandish things in my time living in Stardew Valley,” she replied. “There’s far more to this world than we can know.”

They’d reached the square by then, and were quickly enveloped in the noise and excitement – and the need to keep an eye on Mona...

“Abby!” she sprinted off, and the two girls greeted each other like they were long-lost friends.

Marnie cast a quick glance, to see if Caroline had noticed, but the woman – her hair still sporting green streaks – was in conversation with Jodi and Clarissa. Jodi’s son, Sam, a small boy with a wild mop of blond hair, lurked beneath the table near them. He was grabbing at the ankles of any adults who paused to fill their paper plates, and laughed uproariously when they jumped. His pockets bulged with chocolate eggs. Alex, Clarissa’s son, was busy kicking a ball around with his father and another couple of kids that Marnie didn’t know. Shane and JJ ran over to join them, Trent trailing dutifully behind.

“I’ll see you later.” Emma gave Marnie a quick hug. “I’ve got to talk to Clarissa.” 

Marnie nodded. She didn’t feel she’d be a welcome inclusion to the Wives of Pelican Town club, so instead made her way to the table. She kept half an eye on the two girls. But surely Caroline wouldn’t see them together and make a scene?

“They’re like birds of a feather.” Marlon came to stand beside her, his plate heaped with slices of quiche and scotch eggs. “No wonder my sister wanted to keep them apart. They’re so... him.”

He was right, they did look like sisters; for a start, they’d both inherited Rasmodius’s cheekbones, although Abigail’s face was slightly more angular. Mona’s braids fell in black waves to her shoulders – shimmering purple in a certain light, whereas Abigail’s hair was a rich, chestnut brown, similar, but with more warmth in it, to Pierre’s, her official father. “The hair glamor’s a good trick though,” Marnie remarked. “Or do you think Caroline dyes it?”

The two girls huddled together, hands sticky with egg-related confections, and tried to outdo each other.

“I’m going to find one hundred eggs!” Mona declared.

“That’s nothing,” Abigail replied. “I’m going to find a thousand!”

“I get the feeling we should’ve planted more eggs,” Marlon remarked wryly. “Because both of them are going to be sorely disappointed.”

Pierre, manning a booth near the front of the general store – which he’d taken over six years prior – glanced up at the sound of his daughter’s voice, and frowned. Caroline must have caught his expression, because a moment later she shouted out, “Abigail Le Roux, come here immediately!” Conversation ceased, and all eyes turned to them. She marched over, grabbed Abigail – who looked both bewildered and a little scared – by the arm, and hauled her away.

“I told you not to play with the ranch kids,” she said, making it sound like a curse. “They’re not our kind of people.”

Marlon cursed, and put his hand on Marnie’s shoulder, squeezed her reassuringly, then jogged towards his sister.

Mona stared after her friend, being dragged away so unceremoniously, her face creased with confusion, then burst into tears. Marnie was beside her in five fast strides, and scooped her up in her arms. Shane joined them. His face red with fury, he looked like he was ready to punch Caroline for upsetting his little sister. 

“Why’d she say that?” he asked.

“Hush pet,” Marnie whispered into Mona’s curls. She draped her arm around Shane’s shoulder. “She’s just a big mean... nincompoop.”

“Nin-com-poop?” Mona repeated. She sniffed, and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “Nincompoop! Poop!” 

“What kind of people are we?” Shane asked. 

“The best kind,” Marnie replied. “The kind that care about other people and don’t believe that they should make others feel sad.”

“And her kind... don’t care?”

“Oh, they care alright,” Marnie muttered. “But only for the people they want to care about.”

“I wanna play with Abby,” Mona whimpered. “She’s my bestest friend in the world.”

“I thought I was?” Shane replied. His face looked less furious, and he regarded his little sister seriously.

Calamity averted – at least for the moment, Marnie set the girl back on the ground.

“No silly,” Mona replied. “You’re bestest brother in the world. Abby is bestest friend.”

“Oh,” he replied, and gave her a hug. “That’s alright then.”

“Can you keep an eye on them?” Marnie asked Trent, who’d jogged over to join them. “I need to talk to Caroline.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “In fact I’m sure it’s probably going to end very badly – but she can’t talk about our kids like they’re somehow inferior to her’s.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Not arguing there,” he said. “Just, don’t let her win, okay? And, um no fists.”

She laughed and kissed him on the nose, then hugged both kids in turn. “Back in a minute,” she said. “Why don’t you help Uncle Trent find something to eat? He looks hungry.” She tickled his stomach and he laughed. Then Marnie waited until they were distracted, heaping meringues and omelets and custard onto his paper plate, before marching over to Caroline. 

Abigail had stopped crying, and was now in sulk mode: arms crossed and mouth turned sour. She glanced up at Marnie.

“Mom’s being mean,” she grumbled.

Caroline, drat her, scooped Abigail up – despite the girl protesting, and steadied her against her hip: a little girl shield.

“What?” she said, belligerently, her eyes narrowed in disapproval.

“Hello Caroline,” Marnie said, with forced politeness. “I thought I’d come over to ask if our girls could play together. They do seem rather fond of one another.”

“Please Mommy?” Abigail pleaded.”Mona has the biggest, bestest doll’s house ever!”

“No,” Caroline replied, flatly.

Keep calm, Marnie told herself, and took a deep breath. Jodi, Clarissa and Emma are all watching. Don’t lose your calm. Think of her as a dangerous wild animal, and don’t give her the chance to bite. “And why not?” she asked.

“Yeah, mommy,” Abigail added. “Why not?”

“Because,” Caroline said in a low hiss, covering Abigail’s ears with her hands, “her mother was a gypsy and you’re a Yoba-damned whore.”

Marnie reeled back as if slapped, felt heat rising in her cheeks. Jodi gasped, and Emma reached out and put her hand on Marnie’s.

“I’m a married woman,” she growled back. “And have never been unfaithful,” unlike some people. Of course, that was a lie – but in her case, it had only been one instance, with someone she’d previously had a relationship with (not that that makes it more acceptable, Marnie).

Abigail began wriggling. “Mommmm,” she whined. “I wanna go!”

Caroline ignored her. “Yeah, right,” she growled. “Then why is my brother always hanging out at your house while your husband’s at work? And then there’s Rasmus, living in that tower, all alone. You’re telling me you don’t, occasionally, go over to warm his bed? I will not have my daughter around that sort of influence.”

“They’re my friends,” Marnie snapped. She’d had enough of this crap. “And as for warming his bed, well, there’s other people, women, to do that for him. And I’m sure there are those that might be interested in finding out who.” Oh yes, I know your filthy little secret, Caroline. The thought was fierce enough in her head that it must have shown in her eyes for Caroline looked momentarily stung. Then she set Abigail down.

“Off you go,” she said. “Your dad needs some help at his stall.”

Abigail hesitated for a heartbeat, then realized that at least now she was free, and bolted off. Not, Marnie was gratified to notice, towards the stall, but making a beeline for the desserts' table.

“Walk with me,” Caroline gestured. “I think it’s time we had a wee chat.”

With a final glance at Emma, offering her a nod to let her know that she was okay, and could look after herself, Marnie followed Caroline into the relative privacy of the garden behind her house.

“So you know,” she said flatly.

“You walked right past my kitchen window,” Marnie replied. “For three nights in a row. It wasn’t exactly hard to put the pieces together.”

“And you’re jealous enough to resort to blackmail?”

Marnie sighed. “I’m not jealous,” she replied. “Believe it or not, when I say Rasmus and I are friends, that’s exactly what I mean. Friends. Women and men can be friends you know, without resorting to ripping each others’ clothes off.” On most occasions. “No, what I see is two little girls, who are drawn to each other. And who don’t even realize it’s because they’re sisters.”

“Half-sisters,” Caroline interjected, glancing about as though someone might be listening.

“Whatever. Now, I don’t give a damn if you’re still fucking Rasmodius,” – Caroline flinched – “what I give a damn about, is that those two little girls get to be friends. And if anyone around town notices the similarities, and starts to wonder – well, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more of Rasmus’s offspring running around.”

Caroline snorted at that. “Seriously?”

“That older girl in 2 Willow Lane, what’s her name? Don’t you think she has his chin? And she told me a few days ago, in the general store, that I had, like, a blue halo around my body. Which sounds like a very mystical-magical thing for a seven-year old to come up with.”

“Emily?” Caroline pondered. “Maybe. But she’s a brunette.”

“And that means?” Marnie regarded her, eyebrows raised.

“Well, nothing,” Caroline admitted.

“Regardless. I’m not a gossip, Caroline. I’m not going to spread your secret around. Look, just let Marlon bring Abby over sometime to play at the ranch. Pierre need never see them together.”

“But what about him?”

“Him?” Oh, Rasmus. “He’s a wizard, Caroline. Magic literally flows through his bloodline. I expect he’ll have to meet her sometime but...”

“...Please,” Caroline sounded almost desperate. “I’ve seen his scars, Marnie. I’ve seen how haggard and starved he looks, and how isolated it’s made him. I don’t want that for my daughter.”

“Then raise her a Werner,” Marnie replied. “Strong, and generous, filled with love and kindness of spirit.”

Caroline snorted. “That seriously doesn’t describe me at all.”

“I know. I wasn’t describing you.”

Caroline opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it. Instead, she muttered. “There are none so blind...” And sighed, then said, “Very well, we’ll let the girls become friends – if they choose to. I’ll see if Marlon is available next Wednesday to bring her over.”

Small victories. “Thank you,” Marnie said, and reached forward to give Caroline a hug, but the green-haired woman held up her hand.

“No,” she said. “The kids can be friends, but that doesn’t mean that I like you, Marnie Jacobson.”

Marnie nodded, accepting, even as she wondered – what had she done to earn this woman’s disdain?

The girls mobbed them the minute they stepped out from behind the general store. It seemed that no matter how their conversation had panned out, the girls had decided for themselves anyway.

“I found seven eggs!” Mona boosted, shoving the basket into Marnie’s arms. “Seven! That’s more than a hundred.” 

“No it isn’t.” Abigail snorted, then boasted, “I found eight, and won a hat!” It was a massive straw hat, with a bright red bow, and when she stuck it on her head, it almost covered her entire face.

“Well done,” Caroline replied, plucking the hat off her daughter, and placing it on her own head. “Shall I look after that for you, Abby?”

Marnie picked up Mona, and dabbed chocolate off her face with a handkerchief. “Caroline and I have decided that, next Wednesday, you can come visit us at the ranch, Abigail. With your Uncle Marlon.” (Try wriggling out of that now, Caroline.)

Both girls cheered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part Two. Part Three begins in 2007. So, for the next eight years, imagine two little girls running half-wild in the woods, pretending to be heroes - or occasionally monsters - and winning every Egg Hunt in the interim. And Shane, kicking a gridball around with Alex, and playing the Pokémon TCG with JJ, all while struggling to keep a watchful eye on his strong-willed little sister.
> 
> Heck, if you wanted to (and if you've read "Broken"), you could imagine another slightly older lass visiting her grandfather during the summer holidays and joining them for board games and craft activities on rainy days in the Community Centre. 
> 
> I have an idea for a storyline that will fit into this period (involving Mona making an unusual new friend and tying another NPC into my tale) but we'll see how that goes.
> 
> The first chapter/s of Part Three will be uploaded next week. 
> 
> BTW, your comments make my day! Thank you to all those who have commented now and in the future!


	25. Part three: 2008-2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ranch has become established as a foster home and Marnie and Trent have provided a temporary home for a number of children. Events take a dark turn after Dr Jasper Thomas disappears into the caves/mines and, struggling to deal with the grief, Emma sends Jasper Junior (now a teenager) and Marcus (who is 9 years his junior) into Marnie's care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We begin part three with a newspaper article.

SEARCH ON FOR MISSING HISTORIAN

Stardew Valley Police troopers and rescue crews are on the search for controversial historian Dr. Jasper Thomas, who failed to return from a routine spelunking expedition.

Dr. Thomas was reported missing by his colleague, Gunther Jensen, when he failed to make their rendezvous on August 14th. He was last seen entering the extensive Stardew cave system, via the entry north of Pelican Town, at 9am on August 9th.

Due to the rough terrain, and the volatile nature of the eastern section, which was partly destroyed in a tragic mining explosion nearly 20 years ago, the search and rescue are taking extreme precautions.

Dr Jasper Thomas is well-renowned for his somewhat outlandish beliefs, including the insistence that the (now presumed extinct) demihuman race commonly referred to as ‘Dwarfs’ were descended from aliens. It is believed that he entered the cave system in search of further evidence to support this theory. Against the advice of his colleagues and other experts, Dr Thomas insists on undertaking his expeditions alone, maintaining that he has established a relationship of trust with the demihuman races, and he does not wish to endanger their societies to outside influence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have read "Broken", this section includes the storm of '09 that Abigail eludes to.
> 
> Trigger warnings: contains quite a bit of dark stuff including teen sex/pregnancy, grief, and suicide.
> 
> It does not contain dwarves. I'm sorry but my focus at present is mainly on the human characters, and whilst I would like to expand on the dwarves and M. Jasper's "outlandish" theories (which are canon btw for those of you who haven't read the 'Lost Books' in the library) I haven't managed to work them into a novel yet.


	26. A Dark Passage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marlon and Rasmodius attempt to find Dr Jasper Thomas, missing historian and childhood friend. Tragedy results.  
> Dr Trent and Marnie receive a rescue call-out that will test their emotions to the limit.

Spring 2008

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Emma whispered. She sat, hugging her knees, on the bed in the cottage. She still wore the clothes she’d been in when she got the news. That had been two days ago.

“Don’t give up hope.” Marnie perched on the bed beside her. “Hey,” she added, wrapping her arm around Emma’s shoulders. “Maybe he found his sky dwarfs, and they’ve made him their king.”

That, at least, elicited a small smile. 

“Come on,” Marnie insisted. “You can’t stay in bed forever. It’s not helping Jasper at all – and JJ and Marcus need you.”

As if on cue, Marcus sprinted into the room. JJ’s six-year old brother was his shadow in many ways: tousled hair that fell to his shoulders, with fine, almost delicate features. “Mom!” he shouted. “I’ve been helping Uncle Trent bottle-feed a new lamb. Her name’s Lavender. Come meet her!”

Emma groaned, but dutifully removed herself from the bed, and let Marnie guide her to the bathroom.

“Right,” Marnie said to Marcus, all practical. “While your mom has a shower, let’s get her coffee sorted.”

“What’s wrong with mommy?” Marcus asked. He perched on one of the stools, while Marnie set the kettle on the stove. She opened the fridge. The milk had passed its ‘best before’ yesterday, so she gave it a quick sniff. It still smelled okay. 

“Your mom’s very sad,” Marnie replied.

“Because daddy’s missing?”

“Yes. But don’t worry – everyone in town is looking for him – including Uncle Marlon and Rasmodius. If anyone can find him, they will.”

“I’m not worried,” he said, swinging his feet. “Daddy’s friends with the dwarfs. They’ll help him find his way home again.”

“I hope so, kiddo.” She gave Marcus a quick hug. “Do you want a hot chocolate?”

“With marshmallows? Mommy always makes it with marshmallows. One white and one pink.”

Marnie opened cupboard doors, until she located the jar of them. “With marshmallows, but only two pink. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Marcus replied solemnly. “I’m bored,” he continued. “Jasper won’t play with me anymore. He only wants to play with girls now.”

Marnie frothed some milk for the hot chocolate, and heaped it on top, balancing the marshmallows on the foam. It was true that Jasper Jr – who had discarded the ‘JJ’ nickname as ‘a little kid’s name’ last year – had been spending a lot more time with Mona of late. It didn’t especially worry Marnie, but the other Pelican Town moms insisted on bringing it up.

“You want to keep an eye on her,” Caroline had cautioned, in her ‘I’m well-meaning but also extremely judgmental’ tone. “With her heritage, you want to make sure she doesn’t make you a grandma before you’re forty.”

She had a point, Marnie had to concede, Rasmus was her father, after all. But what was she supposed to do? Forbid them from seeing each other? Because that would go so well. So, she’d done what her grandmother had done, sat down her foster daughter, and given her a box of condoms and The Talk, hoping to embarrass her into being sensible.

“Mommm,” Mona had whined (unlike Shane, Mona had called her ‘mom’ whenever she wanted to get her own way). “I’m fourteen. I’m not gonna get knocked up.” Then she’d applied her cheeky grin. “Well, at least not ‘til I’m sixteen, anyway.”

Mona was maturing into a beautiful woman. She wore her midnight-black hair cut short, so that the curled waves framed her face, highlighting her cheekbones. Her olive complexion and dark eyelashes seemed to accentuate the hints of green and gold in her dark blue eyes. She looked about sixteen, but cast about her an aura of fey innocence. It wasn’t really surprising that JJ – who at sixteen was currently growing through the awkward, gawky stage – followed her around like a loyal sheep dog. Marnie trusted JJ more than Alex, who’d also taken to hanging out at the ranch when he was sent to his grandparents for the summer holidays. Although, in truth, Marnie thought Alex was more interested in hanging out with Shane, the two boys – well, men really – because Shane was almost nineteen, and Alex sixteen – spent a lot of time kicking a gridball ball around.

Shane had, much to her surprise, matured from a fairly serious, contemplative child, into a High School gridball champion. He’d had to repeat a year in school – Catriona’s lifestyle hadn’t been particularly conducive to stable schooling – but now talked of going on to Zuzu City University to play on the varsity team.

“But what are you going to study?” Marnie had asked him.

He’d just shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe agriculture or something.”

Apparently indecision was fairly common amongst teenagers, so Marnie wasn’t unduly concerned at his lack of commitment.

*

Emma came out of the bathroom about twenty minutes later, sat beside Marcus, and dabbed off his milk mustache with a napkin.

“What am I going to do?” she asked. “If they can’t find him. What if... he’s just gone, forever?”

“Then you’ll go on, and stay strong,” Marnie said, “because your boys need you.”

A rap at the door made them both jump, and was followed by a bevvy of barking. “Hush Pepper,” Trent scolded, then called, “Marnie, are you here? We’ve been called out – there’s an emergency in the red zone.”

“The red zone?” The abandoned mining village was a no-man’s land, and those that dared venture there reported smoke still billowed from the ventilation shafts. Then, to Emma, “I’ve gotta go, will you be okay? Keep an eye on the kids? And the dogs? Please?”

Emma nodded. “Of course.” She looked more focused than she had in days. Good.

“What is it?” Marnie asked, jogging alongside Trent to his work-van. The two collie-crosses, Salt and Pepper, danced around their heels. “A cow?” The land was still being used for grazing.

“Not a what,” Trent replied. “A who. One of the rescuers needs to be rescued. They’re hauling him out of the shaft, and need medics on site.” He opened the passenger door for her, ever a gentleman, even in an emergency.

“But we’re vets, not doctors!” She scrambled up into her seat, heart fluttering with panic, and pushed an over-eager Pepper away. “We’re not qualified!”

“Doctor’s been called. He’s out on Fairview. Heart attack.” Trent jumped in the van, and barked at the dogs, “Kennel!” before he turned on the engine. “We’re to keep our patient stable until he can leave his patient. There’s an ambulance coming from Grampleton too, but that’ll take thirty minutes. We’re the best at hand.” “Shit,” Marnie cursed. “What if he dies?”

“I once helped perform CPR on a horse,” Trent replied, putting the van into gear and pulling out on to the dirt road. “I think I can save a human. Besides, he’s probably just broken a leg. Painful, but not fatal.”

“Unless you’re a horse,” Marnie commented. He drove carefully, for the roads around Pelican Town were more pedestrian than vehicular. 

Someone was waiting at the barricade to open the gates into the red zone.

“They’re just getting him up now,” he said. “He’s been burned and is bleeding.”

Marnie felt her heart lurch. She’d once helped treat a cat that had been doused in petrol and set on fire. The humane option had been euthanasia.

It still gave her nightmares.

Trent drove slowly along the road. Once sealed, now weeds threaded through the cobblestones, cracking them into a path of rubble. The houses framed it like silent, abandoned sentinels. Some had collapsed roofs, and their broken windows were like staring eyes, scarred with graffiti. Several had been gutted by fire, others by looters.

The heavy sense of dread deepened when the van drew up by a cluster of people and she recognized a dark figure among the rescuers. “Rasmodius,” she said. Her eyes shifted to the figure he was crouching beside – the rescued rescuer.

Saw a shock of familiar white-blond hair...

“Shit,” she breathed, voice cracking. “It’s Marlon.”

Rasmodius crouched beside him. The wizard was half naked, his wadded shirt pressed against Marlon’s stomach. There was blood, so much blood.

The skin around Marlon’s left eye was swollen, red and blistering. Marnie couldn’t bear to look at it. His right arm hung limp at his side, clothing singed back to reveal reddened skin beneath. Second degree burns, the medical part of her mind made a quick assessment. Then the emotional side took over: the side that saw one of her best friends, horribly wounded.

“Marlon,” she whispered, dropping to her knees beside him. Tried not to gag at the horrible reek of charred flesh and singed hair. “Please be okay.” Which was a stupid thing to say, because he was so not okay. “Please don’t die.”

She hadn’t realized he was conscious, until his hand reached for her. “Marnie,” he rasped. “You came.” She took his hand, stroked her fingers over his. 

“I’m here,” she whispered, blinking back tears, and pressed a kiss to the unblemished side of his forehead.

“We got too close.” Rasmodius’s anguish choked though his words. “I tried to get a shield up in time... but I was too slow. Then this dumb-ass barbarian decided to block the blow.” “Bastard monster,” Marlon growled. “Wizard weak... Warrior... can take it.”

“Well, if you can talk, you can breath.” Trent, ever practical, made a quick assessment. “Marnie, you need to cover that burn – I’ll attend to the stomach wound.”

“Water?” Marnie asked, trying to hide back the panic in her voice.

“No, it’s too deep. Probably near third degree.” He shook his head. “How are you even conscious?”

“Monster hunter,” Marlon croaked, then fainted.

“Lie him flat,” Trent instructed. “Marnie, monitor his airways and pulse. What happened?” This to Rasmodius.

“An ambush,” Rasmodius whispered. “I cast the spell – to track him. But... it was a trick. An ambush. Ifrit and shadow brutes. They were waiting for us.”

Trent blinked at him, then shook his head. “He’ll probably need a blood transfusion – I can’t do that. We need to keep him stable until the ambulance arrives. Rasmodius, keep applying pressure, while I bind it.”

He barked instructions to the other rescuers, towels and more blankets were fetched from his van, padded around Marlon, and beneath his feet, elevating them. Trent wrapped the stomach wound. Another one of the rescuers cooled the singed arm with water. Marnie bound his horribly burned face with sterile gauze, then checked his pulse again. Steady but weakening, as it fought to circulate blood around his body. “Hang in there,” she whispered. “Please.”

He whimpered and quivered against her, dancing on the edge of consciousness.

“Can’t you heal him?” Marnie asked Rasmodius. She stroked Marlon’s uninjured arm, and choked back her tears.

Rasmodius shook his head, expression broken. “No,” he whispered. “I’m shit at healing spells. You were always the healer, Marn.”

She spluttered a horrible, humorless laugh. 

“Jasper, our foolish little thief, who got himself lost looking for treasure,” Rasmodius continued sadly. “Marlon, the heroic barbarian, always rushing in to save the day. And me, the bastard wizard, who can’t even help my best friend.”

After what felt like an eternity, the ambulance arrived. The paramedics jumped out, assessed the damage – complimented Trenton and Marnie – and loaded the patient into the ambulance. 

“Right, does one of you want to come with him?” the paramedic asked.

Marnie and Rasmodius glanced at one another.

“You should?” Rasmodius ventured. “I’m sure he’d rather wake up to your face than my ugly mug.”

Marnie laughed at that – more out of relief than mirth. As if anyone could ever consider Rasmodius ugly. Her heart ached to go with Marlon; she hated seeing her dear friend hurting. But... there were other people that needed her, and she had Trent to comfort her. Rasmodius had no-one. “No,” she said. “It’s better you go. The wizard and the warrior must stick together.”

Rasmodius looked gratified. “Thank you,” he whispered, and sprang up into the ambulance.

They pulled away siren blaring, and a small part of Marnie’s heart went with them.

Trent wrapped his arms around her, drew her close. “You done good,” he whispered into her hair, then pressed a kiss upon her mouth.

“No,” she replied, pressing her forehead against his. “We done good. So Doc, what’s your professional prognosis.” Will he recover?

“He’s young, fit and healthy, so I’m sure he’ll pull through,” Trent reassured her. “But he’ll be in hospital for a few weeks. He’ll need blood transfusions, probably surgery on his face, and maybe skin grafts on his arm. He’ll lose ocular function in that eye though; it’s highly probable he’s already lost the eye itself.”

Scars are like a map of our lives, Marnie thought. 

They drove home in silence, her feeling solemn, and Trent leaving her alone with her thoughts. 

The house was empty. The kids must be out, and Emma had probably returned to the cottage, crawled back into her bed. Marnie didn’t have the strength to try and drag her out. It felt like the energy had been drained out of her: both emotional and physical. She rather wanted to crawl into bed herself, and forget about the world for a while.

Trent made them both hot drinks, and they sat at the table, still in silent contemplation, as adrenaline faded into shivering She clutched the mug in her hands. Her tears dripped down, splashing into the brew. 

“He’ll be alright,” Trent whispered. He wrapped his arms around her. “He’s strong.”

Suddenly his embrace, his well-meaning presence, felt suffocating, over-whelming. Nausea roiled uneasy in her gut.

“Please,” she admitted. “I’d like to be alone, for a bit. If that’s alright?”

Trent nodded. “I’ll be out with the sheep, if you need me.” He squeezed her shoulders, kissed her forehead, and departed.

Grateful at her husband’s empathy, Marnie walked into their room and collapsed on the bed. With a clatter, her cell phone fell out of her pocket, disappearing into the crack between mattress and wall. She scrabbled after it, needed to have it next to her. What if Rasmus called? A mad crazy fumble. Why was there so much crap under the bed? There! Her fingers found it, burrowed into a box fill of cassette tapes and her old red tape deck. She hauled out the box and plugged in the deck.

Would it even still work? Blinking back the tears, her eyes alighted on the mix tape Marlon had made for her, more than twenty years ago.

She slipped it in, pushed play, and began to sob in earnest, as the slightly tinny, very retro, and heart-wrenching opening chords of ‘Prisoner of Your Eyes’ began, taking her back to those carefree days, when the four of them had sat in the craft room, and pretended they were heroes.

Now Jasper was missing, and probably dead.

Marlon grievously wounded.

Rasmus, a broken, faded shadow of his former self.

And she... she could feel everything fracturing, fragmenting around her, and didn’t know how to glue the pieces back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of curiosity, since I reference it multiple times in this novel and it kind of became the "theme song", how many people reading this have listened to "Prisoner of Your Eyes" by Judas Priest? It's from their album "Screaming for Vengeance" which was one of the very first cassette tapes I ever owned.


	27. 2008 Summer Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ranch is full: new foster, Katie, struggles to fit in. Jasper and Mona are drawn to the caves. Shane is overprotective.  
> Basically, teenagers are a challenge all of their own.

June 2009

“Katie’s doing it again! Make her stop it!” Mona’s petulant whine rose from the kitchen. “I’m just making breakfast.”

Marnie groaned and marched into the kitchen. Mona stood over the stove, frying a couple of eggs, whilst the latest foster-child, fourteen-year old Katie, pointed the bright pink digital camera in her direction.

“Katie-cat, why are you filming her?” Marnie asked tiredly.

“I’m making a documentary,” Katie declared. “About living on the farm.”

Mona rolled her eyes. “Why?” she asked. “Nobody cares!” Then casually, she threw at Marnie, “Jasper and I are going out today.”

“Please don’t go to the caves,” Marnie said, knowing it was a futile request. In the year since his father had vanished, Jasper Junior’s interest in the caves had grown from fascination to obsession, and with Shane off at varsity, there was no-one to keep them from doing anything too foolish. Hopefully that would change shortly, when Shane came home for the summer; although, now that Mona was fifteen, and therefore knew everything, it wasn’t a given that she would even listen to her brother’s words of wisdom anymore. And as for heeding Marnie’s advice: far too many times, Mona had invoked the cry of: “You’re not my mother. You can’t tell me what to do.”

And it broke her heart every time.

*

Gilbert and Roland now monitored the cave system; Marlon was still not fully recovered. Aside from the blood-loss and the burns, he’d also suffered multiple fractures to his right leg – something that both she and Trent had overlooked in lieu of his more life-threatening injuries. It had been over a year, and the bone had healed – but not well – and over-exertion on rough terrain made him limp.

Marnie had visited him in hospital almost every day, then dropped by the Adventurer’s Guild after he was discharged.

They’d sat together, and listened to one of her more inspirational mix tapes (‘songs for heroic deeds’). She’d found it hard to look at him without feeling sick and sad. Half his face was still swathed in bandages; his head had been shaved, presumably for cosmetic symmetry, and a short, pale fuzz now covered his scalp. His right leg was encased in plaster.

“After they called the search off, Emma took Marcus back to Grampleton,” she’d informed him. “They’re staying with her sister. But young Jasper refuses to leave Pelican Town. He claims it’s because his father might come home one day – but I think it’s because, well, he and Mona have become close. He’s fascinated in the caves, Marl, and I don’t know what to do. I feel so helpless.”

“All we can do is prepare them,” he said. “My father first took me into the caves when I was eight. He put a wooden sword in my hands, pointed me at a baby green slime, and told me to kill it.” He gave a rueful laugh. “I was terrified – the thing was so squishy and weird. But I didn’t want to look like a scared kid in front of my dad – so I did as he asked. Send them to me, and I’ll teach them how to handle themselves.”

“I think she’s been meeting with Rasmus,” Marnie said. “She refuses to talk about it, but she’s wearing the frozen tear necklace – you know, the one you gave me back when we were kids – most of the time. I think it might be her focus stone.”

“I spoke to him about training her,” Marlon admitted. “It’s amazing what favors you can exact from others when you’re broken and crippled.”

“You’re not that broken,” Marnie replied, stroking the prickly stubble on his scalp. “Why, an eye patch will just add an air of mystery and intrigue. Pirates are still in, right?” He gave her a rakish grin. “Oh, pirates are always in.”

* 

The bus drew to a halt with a deep sighing moan and the door sliced open. Marnie always felt her heart leap with delight at the sight of Shane. He’d grown up handsome, tall, and muscular with his tanned olive complexion, courtesy of his mother’s genes and his gridball training. He wore his hair short, almost short enough to rival Marlon’s, and there was a jaunt to his stride as he descended the steps.

“Shane!” Mona ran up to give him a hug, and he picked her up as though she weighed nothing and spun her around. “Now, don’t let me hear that you and Abby have been getting into too much trouble,” he said, and planted her back on the ground.

She pouted. “Oh, as if.”

“As if you would, or as if you wouldn’t?” he asked.

She just flashed him her most charming smile. “I’ve been very well behaved,” she insisted.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Where’s Abby?”

“Oh, we don’t hang out so much anymore,” Mona replied with casual disdain. “I imagine she’s playing that dumb Solarian Chronicles game with Sebastian and Sam.” 

Shane shrugged dismissively, and nodded at Katie. “And who’s she?” 

Katie bounded forward, her blonde braids bouncing with her enthusiasm. Her camera hung from one hand. “Hi!” she said, and opened her arms as if to welcome Shane with a hug, but he blocked her embrace. “I’m Katie.”

“Shane,” he replied, a little gruffly. Then added, “Pleased to meet you. Are you living at the ranch?”

“Yep. Just while my dad’s in jail. My mom’s dead. Don’t worry, he didn’t kill her, just took some shit that wasn’t his.” Then, as if that were of little consequence, added, “You look strong. Do you work out?”

“My brother plays gridball,” Mona boosted. “For the ZuCU Strykers.”

“Oh!” Katie said, impressed. “What position do you play?”

He allowed her that crooked smile that no doubt entranced the varsity girls. “Whichever position I like. But mostly, I’m a linebacker.”

She held up her camera. “Would you like to do an interview? I’m making a documentary.”

Shane looked a little taken aback. “Sure. I guess?”

Marnie was beginning to feel rather surplus to requirements. She stepped forward. “It’s good to see you again, Shane.” He suffered her hug with grace. “How’s school?”

“Fine.” He gave a non-committal shrug. “It’s good to be back in the Valley,” he added. “Hey, is Alex still around?”

The house hadn’t felt so full in a long time, as the extended family gathered around the table for dinner. Set upon the table, Shane’s favorite cheese-filled pepper poppers, a crisp green salad and a loaf of fresh baked bread.

“So,” Shane said smoothly, meeting Jasper’s gaze, “I hear you’ve been dating my sister.”

Jasper blushed and pressed his glasses up his nose. Nervous, although there was no particular menace in Shane’s tone.

Mona reached for Jasper’s hand, took it and squeezed it. “We’re in love,” she declared, which made her boyfriend blush even further, and was news to Marnie. She flailed for something to say, but nothing seemed suitable, so instead busied herself by taking the baked fish – Trent had been out fishing earlier in the day, and hooked a couple of bream and sunfish – from the oven, and setting it on the table.

Shane studied Jasper, blue eyes sharp and intent. “Congratulations,” he said eventually, then stabbed his fork into a pepper popper, with such savagery that Jasper flinched. “If you break her heart, I’ll break your head,” he added calmly.

“Shane!” Marnie was mortified. He’d always been protective of his little sister, but this? 

“No threats over dinner please.” Trent tried to make light of it. “Save those for dessert.”

“Katie, please put that camera away,” Marnie scowled. “Shane, there’ll be no breaking of heads – or hearts – in this house. Now, everyone, let’s enjoy our dinner.”

“I’m not going to break her heart,” Jasper said in a hoarse whisper. “Mona’s more precious to me than a diamond or a pearl – than even the stars in the sky. I love her. I really do.”

“Good,” Shane replied. “I would’ve hated to have to hurt you.”

*

“I’m not going back to school,” Shane declared after dinner. It was just the three of them; the younger kids had fled as soon as they’d finished, probably to avoid getting roped into helping clean up afterwards. Katie had retreated to her room to chat with her BFFs back in Zuzu via InstaChat, and Jasper and Mona were watching a DVD in the living room.

“You guys need me here.” He ran his hand through his close-cropped hair. 

Marnie eyed him suspiciously. “There’s something you’re not telling us,” she said. She held his gaze for a long moment, then relented.

“Fine,” he groaned, and slammed his hand on the table. “ZuCU sucks. I hate it. My roomie is a slob – I’d say it’s like living with a pig, but I’m pretty sure pigs are actually cleaner. And, well, I kinda bummed out...”

He pushed a piece of paper across the table to them. Marnie took it, unfolded it. There were mostly Ds, and a couple of Cs. “You passed,” she commented, trying to sound positive, even as her heart sunk. He’d been a B+ student at Stardew High. 

“Yeah, but my GPA’s like 1.5,” he mumbled. “Please, I’d like to stay here. Plus,” he added, in a low whisper, “I’m worried about Mona.”

“Legally you’re an adult – so it’s your choice, bud,” Trent interjected. “But we could certainly use some help around the ranch.” Aside from the chickens, and the odd orphaned or injured animal, they had only kept a hundred-head of sheep – being the local mobile vet generated more than enough work and income. Marnie still made cheese, but she purchased raw goat’s milk from Roland, and cow’s milk from Fairview. There were no house pets: Brandy and Cyndi had been laid to rest with Brenna in the tiny memorial garden around Benjamin’s lilac tree. Salt and Pepper were working dogs, and as such had their kennel and runs by the side of the house. However, Marnie sometimes let them inside when Trent and the kids were out and she wanted company.

“I thought,” Shane ventured, “that I could, maybe, get a job at that new hardware store, out near Grampleton, and, you know, officially rent the cottage. And Mona could move in with me – if she wanted to.”

“Sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Trent remarked.

Shane nodded, and studied his hands.

“What about gridball?” Marnie asked, shocked that she was resorting to using sport as a way of attempting to keep him in school.

“There’s other teams,” Shane replied. “I can join the Grampleton club. And, it doesn’t need to be forever – I could go back to university, later, when I can... pay my own way.”

A burst of laughter came from the other room.

“It’s your life, bud,” Trent said decisively, without looking his wife in the eye, as though he could sense her disapproval. “We – you’re Auntie and I – shall discuss the terms of renting the cottage. Give you an answer tomorrow?”

“Thank you,” Shane replied. “May I leave the table now, please?”

Trent nodded, and Shane pushed the chair out, stood, and left.

“So, you’re just going to let him drop out?” Marnie growled. “Throw a year of his education away!”

“Look,” Trent replied, “it’s plain that university doesn’t agree with him – it’s not for everyone you know.” He rested his hand on hers.

“Just...” She snatched her hand away, unwilling to be pacified, and began to angrily rinse the dirty dishes and all but throw them into the dishwasher. “What the hell happened? He was getting As and Bs at Stardew High. And now... for him to almost fail...” One of the dishes slipped through her fingers, clattering into the sink. “Shit,” she cursed.

Trent’s arms around her, steadying her. “It’s not your fault, Marn,” he said, and kissed her on the forehead. “You haven’t failed him. The kids have to find their own way in the world.”


	28. The Nightmare Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane's protective nature takes him a step too far.
> 
> Trigger Warning: Violence  
> (I also never realized how serious blunt force trauma to the abdomen and spine could be until I researched this chapter).

Sunday, 27th September 2009

“Jasper’s hurt!” Katie exploded through the door of Marnie’s shed, camera dangling from her wrist. “He’s been kicked in the stomach! He can’t breathe!”

Marnie grabbed the first aid kit from beside the door and ran after Katie, following her into the barn. “What happened?” she asked, but Katie didn’t answer. 

Jasper was sitting upright, wrapped in Mona’s arms. Both their faces were drained of color, and tears streamed down Mona’s face.

“I’m okay,’ Jasper insisted. 

“Lie down, and lift your shirt,” Marnie commanded. “If you’ve been kicked, you could be bleeding internally.” He obeyed, and Marnie traced her hands across his belly. He flinched, and she could see discoloration of the skin, the redness of impact, but his abdomen didn’t feel tight, or hard. Good. “I think it’s mostly just bruising, but we better get you into the clinic and get it scanned. Shit.” Trent was out with the van, and they didn’t have another vehicle. Not that Marnie had learned to drive anyway. She grabbed her phone, rang Marlon. Please pick up. If he didn’t... she’d call an ambulance, but that would have to come from Grampleton. Couldn’t expect Jasper to walk. Hell, if he was bleeding internally, walking could kill him.

Her pulse raced with panic.

“Marnie? What’s wrong?” Marlon answered with uncanny perception.

“Jasper’s hurt – have you got the truck? Can you drive over? We need to get him to the clinic.”

A sharp intake of breath. “I’ll be right there.” He rung off.

Shit, she’d forgotten to tell him where they were. “Katie, can you wait by the house? Bring him to us?”

While they waited, she turned Jasper onto his side, and they threw one of the horse blankets over him.

“I’m fine,” he said. “You don’t need to fuss.”

“What happened?” Marnie asked.

Mona opened her mouth to say something, but Jasper got in first. “The cow,” he said. “Dandelion. She... we were goofing around her, and... she kicked me.”

Marnie cast a glance at the large, placid jersey cow. A bottle-fed, ex-pet calf, Dandelion didn’t seem the likely culprit. No ... the likely culprit was conspicuous in his absence. 

“Where’s Shane?” Marnie asked.

A flutter of panic crossed Mona’s face, and she cast a quick glance at Jasper, but he gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. “I don’t know,” she said. “We haven’t seen him since breakfast.” She blushed and couldn’t maintain eye contact; she was not a good liar.

Marnie pressed further; it felt a little like she was stabbing needles into her chest. “Did Shane attack Jasper?” The question directed at Mona.

“No.” Mona’s face reddened, with anger or embarrassment, Marnie couldn’t be sure. “It was the cow. Right?”

“Jasper?” Marnie turned her gaze on him.

“Definitely Dandelion,” he insisted.

At the sound of her name, Dandelion looked up and uttered a low ‘mooo’.

The sound of an engine outside, and Marlon’s voice. “Marnie!” 

Katie erupted through the door, Marlon behind her. The bandages were gone, replaced by an eye-patch, that did, in fact, make him look mysterious and quite dashing. “How’s our patient?” he asked.

“I’m fine!” Jasper repeated, but let them help him into the cabin of the flatbed truck. Marnie clambered in beside him, and the two girls scrambled into the back.

“It’s full of weapons!” Katie exclaimed. “What do you do? There’s like swords and all sorts of weird shit back here!”

“Don’t touch anything!” Marlon bellowed back at her, and added, “Pest extermination.” Then, to Jasper, “What happened, kid?”

“Kicked by a cow,” he answered.

Marlon rose his eyebrow quizzically at Marnie; she shrugged. “That’s all he’ll tell me too – and Dandelion’s not confessing.”

“Ah,” Marlon added. “They can be temperamental beasts, them cows.”

“He’s been very lucky,” the doctor informed Marnie, a few hours later, in a private receiving room. “Nothing’s ruptured, and there’s been only a minor amount of bleeding – mainly from his spleen region – as the result of blunt trauma. There’s also substantial bruising on his back, just above his tailbone, which has caused further bruising to his kidneys. I’d like to keep him in for the next few days, monitor his vital signs, and make sure that his condition doesn’t worsen. Meanwhile, he claims he was kicked by a cow. That the creature kicked him backwards, into the fence. Is that the truth?”

“At the moment,” Marnie replied darkly. “I can only take his word for it. But I can assure you, there will be further questioning.”

“Indeed,” the doctor replied, smoothly, but his tone indicating that he – like her – knew that there was more to this story than just an irritable cow. “As Jasper is legally a minor, and as you are currently fostering him for the state, you do realize I shall need to send a copy of my report to the authorities?”

The panic in her heart took wings. If the authorities elected to investigate, she could lose them all. “Yes,” she replied, feeling slightly faint. “Yes, I do.”

*

“Do you want me there when you talk to him?” Marlon asked.

Marnie shook her head. “I don’t want him to feel intimidated,” she said. “He’s been a bit … surly … since he came back from varsity.” Since he discovered his little sister had grown into a woman. “But he’s never been violent.”

“Intimidated?” Marlon twitched his smile at her. “Do you find me intimidating?”

“You’re a monster hunter,” she replied. “And you’re six-foot-four of solid muscle, and covered in scars – including an eye-patch! If that’s not intimidating, then I don’t know what is.”

“Well,” he replied, “When you put it that way... I guess you’re right. But I’m here for you Marns, if you need me.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a hug. “You’re the best.”

Mona emerged from the bedroom, backpack over her shoulder. “I’ve got card games, our phones, that Hunger Games book, three pairs of his underwear and a change of clothes,” she declared. “Think that’s enough? Uncle Marlon, can you drop me off at the clinic on your way, please?”

“Sure kid,” Marlon replied. Then added, to Marnie, “Call me if you need me.”

Katie, evading any questioning at all, had already disappeared into her room and jumped back onto the internet.

Thank goodness for cellphones, Marnie reflected, given that it seemed someone was always blocking their landline. Even if cellphone coverage was fairly spotty around Pelican Town.

She rang Emma. Her sister answered, informed her that Emma wasn’t ‘feeling well’ (code for ‘zonked on valium’) and assured her the message would be passed on. 

Trent hadn’t answered his phone – probably caught up in an emergency.

Finally, she couldn’t put it off any longer.

She let the dogs out of their kennels, and went off to find Shane.

*

The two dogs delighted in being out and about. Salt, so named because he was almost pure white, with only a few blotches of black, stayed close to Marnie’s right, and Pepper, a speckled merle, by her left. She was the more rambunctious, and kept her ears pricked and alert, staring up into the trees. Perhaps seeking those mysterious endemic creatures that Marnie had never seen?

“Find,” she instructed Salt, and he hesitated for a moment, then bounded away. Pepper bounded after him, her tail wagging. Their barking, sharp, staccato, come back a few minutes later. They’d found him – or something – at least.

It was Shane. A dark-haired figure, at the edge of the cliff, near the abandoned hat shop, his legs draped over the edge. Marnie felt her heart sputter in her chest. He wasn’t suicidal, was he? Shit. 

Salt bounded up to him, nuzzled his face, and barked again. Pepper circled back t

o Marnie. She approached cautiously, hoping not to startle the lad. “Shane?” “How is he?” Shane asked. One hand rested on the dog, but his gaze stayed out, across the turbulent waters of the Gem Sea. Gulls and terns swooped and soared on the thermals. “Bruised,” Marnie replied. “The doctor’s keeping him in for observation.”

“Shit.” Shane swung his legs up onto solid ground and drew himself away from the edge. His gaze met hers. He looked bloody awful. His eyes red-rimmed, as though he’d been crying, cheeks flushed with the wind-chill from the sea. “I’m sorry. What did he tell you?”

“That Dandelion had kicked him, back against the fence.”

Shane barked a mirthless laugh. “Poor Dandy, the ultimate scape-cow. I don’t know what came over me,” he said, raking his hands through his hair. “I just... it was like they say – I saw red.” He took a deep shaky breath. “Mona’s pregnant.”

“What?” Marnie’s knees turned to liquid. Shane caught her before she crumbled, and helped her back to sit on the steps of The Mad Hatters. Pepper bounced up, licking her face, and she pushed the dog away.

“Yeah,” he said, slouching down beside Marnie. “Not far along, by any account. But... well, I overheard them having a fight over it. Jasper wanted her to get an abortion – wanting to hide the evidence of his crime, no doubt, because she’s underage, and he’s a filthy little horndog who can’t keep his dick in his pants – but Mona wanted to keep it. Keep her, she insisted, even though it’s only, like, a bunch of cells. So I stepped in. Told the little punk that my sister has the right to decide what to do with her own body. He swung the first punch,” he added, eyes serious. “But, well, he’s a weedy little rat, so I can hardly claim self defense. I shoved him to the ground. And seeing him, crouching there – this little prick who dared to impregnate my sister and then thought he could control her – and I wanted to end him. Thank Yoba, Mona intervened.” He let his head sink into his hands. “Cos I think, if she hadn’t been there, I could’ve killed the little bastard.” His shoulders shuddered. “What’s going to happen to me now?”

Marnie draped her arm around his shoulders and squeezed him. “I guess that’s up to Jasper,” she said. “He seems fairly insistent that the cow kicked him – but if he changes his mind, and decides to press charges... Well, it’s your first offense, right? So, I guess, maybe some prison time, or community service.” She was finding it hard to focus, thoughts mostly on Mona, and her baby. Shit, she was only fifteen. And she wanted to keep it.

“I can’t stay here,” Shane muttered. “And look into his smug, weaselly face at the dinner table each night. But... I can’t leave Mona either. I was gonna wait until I turned twenty-one. Then I thought I could apply for a kinship adoption, but they’ll never approve it, if I have a felony.”

Marnie blinked back tears. “That’s a very noble thought, Shane,” she replied. “And you know, legally, you’re part of our family; there’s always a home for both of you here.” “I know,” he replied. “Thank you. When does Jas get back?”

“They’re keeping him in for a few days,” she replied. “For observation.”

He nodded. “I’ll leave on Tuesday.”

“But where are you going to go?” He’d already burned his university bridges.

A shrug. “I’ve got friends in Zuzu, I’ll crash on their couch until I can find a job, rent a dive for myself.”

Marnie blinked back tears. “Oh Shane, you don’t need to leave.” Please. Please stay.

“Yes, I do. I’m sorry. But please, know that you and Trent were the best parents I could’ve ever wished for. And I’ll write, and leave you my details in case...” In case Jasper decides to press charges, and you need to contact me, Marnie finished for him, in her head.

“Mona will be heartbroken.” It was a cruel card to play, and Marnie felt instant guilt at mentioning it, but it was also very, very true.

“Oh,” he replied, darkly. “I expect she’ll understand. And I’ll be back in a year anyway – for her and the baby. Unless she’s still hooked up with the weasel-bastard, of course.”

* 

True to his word, Shane caught the bus out of Pelican Town on Tuesday morning. The wind whistled and howled, and the clouds spattered them with intermittent showers of rain.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.” Mona had taken the day off school to see her brother off. “I mean, sure, you may be a total dumbass ignoramus,” – she jabbed him in the chest to punctuate each insult – “but you’re still my brother, and I love you. I’m sorry.” Whether she was apologizing for her relationship with Jasper, or the pregnancy, Marnie couldn’t be sure. She hadn’t even began that conversation with her adopted daughter. 

“Harsh words Mo.” He wrapped his arms around her, held her close. “But sadly, true. I’ll come back for you,” he added in a whisper. “As soon as I get a place sorted out for us, all of us, to live together.” Marnie could hear the unspoken and knew that whilst ‘us’ included the baby, it definitely did not include Jasper.

“But what’s wrong with here?” Mona whined.

He hugged Marnie, and shook Trent’s hand. “Thanks for everything.” He waved to them all, then clambered up into the bus, waved again from the top step, and disappeared within. For Marnie, it felt like a tiny part of her heart was breaking away. 


	29. Family Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not a discussion anyone ever wants to have with their daughter: Mona reveals her pregnancy, and the family plan for their future.  
> But if the best laid plans...

Setting the kettle on the stove, Marnie collapsed into her chair at the table. She rested her head on her crossed arms, and gave into tears.

A banging on the bathroom door. “Hurry up,” Mona sounded terrible. “I need the toilet.”

“Sorry. Use the one in the cottage!” Trent shouted back.

“Shit.” Mona muttered. Footsteps pounded, and the front door opened. Marnie heard her retching, vomiting into the garden by the door.

So much for wallowing in sorrow. Marnie poured a glass of water, grabbed a damp towel, and met Mona by the door.

“I think I must have a stomach bug,” Mona croaked. She accepted the towel and wiping down her face, then cautiously sipped the glass of water.

Marnie’s disbelief clearly showed in her face, because Mona, still sipping the water, followed her meekly into the kitchen. “There’s something I’ve gotta tell you,” she whispered. “And I think you’d better be sitting down first.”

Marnie closed the kitchen door. Made herself a coffee. “Hot chocolate?” she asked, remembering that day, more than sixteen years ago, when Catriona knocked on her door, and brought with her the same news.

“Please.”

This time, there was no Shane to disrupt the conversation and Katie wouldn’t be home from school for a few more hours. Trent would see the closed door and know that they were discussing ‘woman’s business’.

Marnie added two plump marshmallows to the foamed milk, and sat down beside Mona, placed her hand on the girl’s. 

Mona was shivering, and tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “It wasn’t meant to happen. We were careful... so careful. I, I took your advice. We used... rubbers every time. Like every time! But... last month,” she swallowed hard, “it broke. And...” She stopped holding back the tears, let them flow, which set Marnie’s own tears off. “And now,” she choked out the words. “I’m pregnant.”

Jasper was discharged later that afternoon, and the four of them: Jasper, Mona, Trent and Marnie, gathered to discuss their future. The argument between Jasper and Mona about the baby’s fate seemed to have been determined in Marnie’s absence, because Jasper now seemed insistent that they were keeping ‘her’.

“We could get married,” he said. “Move into the cottage, right?”

“Jasper,” Trent sighed. “You’re seventeen years old. Have you thought about how you’re going to support your wife and child?”

Jasper gave a shaky smile. “My grandfather was a miner, and my dad found treasures in the mines. I figured... I could be a gem hunter. There’s still loads of gems in there – if you know where to look.”

“I’m glad you’ve put some thought into it,” Trent continued. “But your grandfather died in those mines. And your father vanished into them last year. How do you think Mona will feel, not knowing if her husband is going to return each night?”

Jasper glanced at Mona and she kissed him on the nose. “I could get a job,” she said. “Um... working at the saloon, maybe?” There weren’t really a lot of other options in town. “You’re fifteen – you’ll be sixteen when the baby’s born. You’re too young to work in the saloon.”

“But,” Marnie interjected, “obviously we’re not going to throw you out on your own. You’re our daughter, Mona, and both of you are welcome to stay here until you turn eighteen – or, Jasper, until your mother is well enough for you to return home. But, you will not be living as though you are husband and wife.”

“Jasper, you do understand that engaging in sex with a minor is a crime, right?” Trent said.

“Hey,” Mona interjected. “I consented to it. It wasn’t like he raped me or anything.”

“But now, perhaps, you’re able to see why there are laws against it?”

“Back in the old days, we’d probably be married and have three kids by now,” she muttered.

“Also, possibly, small pox, or the black plague,” Trent added. “And I’d be dead, so let’s not compare modern days to the medieval.”

Marnie held up her hands. “Regardless, within the next nine months, you will have a baby, Mona. I’ve not looked after a newborn before,” – most of their fosters had been young teenagers – “but we can raise your child together.”

“What if the authorities find out?” Jasper asked. “Or, if they investigate, after my accident – with the cow."

“Legally, Mona is our daughter,” Marnie insisted. “They can’t take her off us without very, very good reason. They can, however, send you home.” And have Shane arrested and charged with assault. But she wasn’t going to say that aloud, because then she could be accused of trying to coerce Jasper into silence.

Jasper nodded. “I don’t want that,” he said. “I want to watch our baby grow up.”

As if on cue, the phone rang. The four of them say in silence for a moment – partly surprised that the phone was even ringing, because it meant Katie wasn’t using the dial-up – but also because there seemed something almost ominous about its timing.

Finally Trent jumped up. “Probably just a cow stuck in a ditch,” he said, and stalked over to answer it. 

The others sat in silence for a long moment, as he answered ‘yes’, ‘no’. ‘That’s fine.’ and ‘yes, we shall see you then.’ He hung up.

“That was the authorities,” he said. “Mona, were you and Jasper discussing your pregnancy at the clinic yesterday?”

“Yes,” she whispered. 

“Because it appears the walls have ears, and someone has filed a report against us. With that, and the report that the doctor was legally obliged to send through detailing Jasper’s accident, they’ve decided to send an investigator out. He’s coming in two weeks – Wednesday 14th.”

“But who would do that?” Mona exclaimed. “We didn’t see anyone, did we, Jas?”

“We had the curtain pulled around us,” Jasper admitted. “We were talking quietly but, well, anyone could have overheard. Curtains aren’t sound-proof. Shit. They’re going to take me away. I’m gonna be arrested.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “I’m never going to see my daughter.”

“Calm down.” Trent clapped his hand on Jasper’s shoulder. “You’re jumping ahead of yourself, kiddo. No-one’s laid charges yet. And you’re only seventeen – not legally an adult yourself.”

But that didn’t stop the panic crushing in on Marnie’s heart; the fear, as the pieces of this happy life they’d built together began to fragment further.


	30. Last Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm is brewing...  
> Something has woken.  
> And things will never be the same again.

Tuesday 13th October 2009

“Katie, are you almost done in there? I really need the bathroom!”

“Have we got any more milk? The bottle’s empty.”

“Go and milk the cow yourself, Jas.”

School mornings at the ranch were always a mass of confusion. 

“Shit,” this from Katie, who had the foulest mouth of all of them, and had now emerged from the bathroom. “Where are my boots? Did you borrow them again Mona?”

“As if. Your feet are massive!” Mona called back from the bathroom.

“They are not!”

Scratching at the front door. Jasper opened it, and Magnus streaked in. His fur looked ruffled. 

“Hey kitty.” Katie stooped to call the cat over. He ignored her, instead made a beeline for the bathroom, stood on his hind-legs and began swiping at the door. 

Mona cracked it open, and the huge ginger cat heaved his bulk through the narrow gap. “No I can’t today,” Marnie heard her whispering to him. “I’ve got to go to school. Sorry Magnus.”

“There’s a storm coming,” Trent announced, standing in the open front door. “Hope Roland’s got his goats in. We’d better round up the sheep.” He studied the sky. “I reckon it’s going to break late afternoon, early evening. So you kids’ll be alright at school.”

The sky looked calm, but Marnie had lived in the country long enough that she could feel it too: like a heavy, oppressive weight that lurked just beyond the horizon. The blustery, warm breeze brought with it whispers of the ominous.

Trent collected the dogs, went out to round up the ewes from the hilltop pasture. Marnie picked up her shopping bags, and walked with the kids through Alexander’s farm, towards the bus stop. 

The farm had changed a little since Jenkins had been managing it. A latticework covered in pumpkin vines filled one raised garden bed, heavy with fruit, and a row of sunflowers bobbed their glorious golden heads. Roland waved to them from his cranberry patch.

“Good morning neighbors!”

“Trent says there’s a storm coming,” Marnie called to him. “Better shut your goats in tonight.”

“Aye,” he saluted back. It was easy to look at this handsome older man, his dark hair streaked with silver around the temples, and realize that he was Rasmodius’s father.

“Big day today?” she said to Jasper. He was struggling a little with his bulging backpack.

“What?” he sounded startled, and slightly defensive. “Oh yeah. You know what senior year is like – loads of textbooks, and all that. I’m a bit nervous about tomorrow though,” he added.

Me too, Marnie wanted to say. No, not nervous, she was lightly terrified. The weight of weather over the horizon felt disturbingly like an omen. “Well, you never know, if this storm is strong enough, maybe the bridge’ll be closed and they won’t be able to get here.”

“Maybe,” he echoed, looking thoughtful. 

“You’ll be fine,” Mona replied, kissing him. “I won’t let them take you away from me.”

“I wish someone would tell me what’s going on,” Katie whined. “You guys keep whispering your secrets. And Shane’s gone – although that’s quite obvious why – but something’s totally up. Why won’t anyone tell me anything?”

“Because it’s none of your business,” Mona snapped back.

Katie’s mouth twisted into a sour sneer, she opened her mouth – probably to make an angry retort – when Abigail jogged up to join them.

“Hi guys,” she said brightly. “Wow, are you moving into the school, Jasper? That’s a massive load you’re lugging there! Hey Mona. How goes? Haven’t seen you for ages.”

“Hey,” Mona sounded almost irritated. “You see me at school, like, every day Abby.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same. You should come play Solarian with us sometime – Seb always insists on playing the wizard, but you’d be awesome at it.”

Mona shrugged. “Solarian is for geeks and losers,” she said. “Jas and me, well, we prefer the real deal.”

“Hey, geek I’ll take – but who are you calling a loser?” Sam, spiked blond hair adding an extra two inches to his height, joined them. “Happy Birthday Abby.” Sam held out his hand and she high-fived it. “You’re what, fifteen today.”

“Oh Abby!” Marnie had forgotten, and how she’d missed the bright spark that was Abigail around her house. “Happy fifteenth birthday!”

“Thanks Mrs Jacobson,” Abigail beamed at her. “I really miss that blackberry cobbler you used to make. Mom never gets the pastry right.”

The bus pulled up, and Marnie broke away, headed off towards the shop.

“Good morning Marnie,” Lewis greeted her in the canned goods aisle. He took off his cap and gave a small bow. 

“Hello Mayor,” she replied shyly. Why he’d aspired to become Mayor of a town so small that everyone knew everyone else’s business, Marnie couldn’t quite understand. She’d always felt – in those days after the mine disaster, when they’d eaten lunch together regularly – that he had greater ambitions. He’d taken the position in 1998, and held it now for ten years, because no-one quite had the motivation or drive – or, she supposed, the charisma – to stand against him.

“How’s the ranch?” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I hear one of the kids had a wee accident a couple of weeks back.”

Bloody small town gossip. She’d tried, in vain, to find who had alerted the authorities to Jasper and Mona’s conversation – and drawn a blank. The doctor had refused to tell her who had visited the clinic that day – patient confidentiality and all that – but she’d lurked outside for an hour over lunch, and it seemed half the town had visited. Lewis had popped in and departed, carrying a sheaf of papers; Evelyn took in a tray of cookies; Pam, with her cheap peroxided hair and overload of make-up, had sauntered in, her skinny red-haired teenager in tow; Caroline too, had dropped in with a take-out coffee.

“We’re fine,” Marnie replied. Never air your dirty laundry in public, her mother had always said.

Lewis put his hand on her arm, and squeezed it in a way that seemed overly familiar. “Well, my dear, if you ever strike a run of bother, please do not hesitate to come and see me. Confidentiality guaranteed! You see, my position does offer me the chance to, well, open a few doors. Opportunities, and all that.”

“Thank you,” she replied, and began filling the basket. Better to get supplies sorted for until the end of the week. There was no telling how bad the storm would be, and if the bridge was closed or their were slips on the hill – as frequently happened after heavy rain – they’d be no fresh deliveries for a few days.

The wind was gustier when she arrived home, and found the sheep clustered into the small yard near the farmhouse. Trent had tossed a couple of bales of hay into the feeder, and they seemed content.

“They’ve issued a storm warning,” he informed her. “Supposed to hit early evening. We better batten down the hatches.”

It struck earlier, with the winds intensifying early afternoon, and the first downpour of rain shortly after. Trent drove through the blustery gale to pick the kids up from the bus stop.

His van screeched to a halt, and only Katie jumped out.

“Where are Mona and Jasper?” Marnie demanded, shouting against the wind.

“They didn’t get off the bus,” Trent replied, ushering the younger girl inside. And just in time, because the sky cracked open, and a river dropped on the house.

“I haven’t seen them,” Katie replied. Face pale, she shivered with fear. “Not since we got to school this morning. Maybe... maybe they cut class? Some of the older kids do that, sometimes.”

“Shit,” Marnie muttered, flinging down her cell phone. “Mona’s phone goes straight to voice mail. You don’t think they’ve run away, do you?” 

“Probably missed the bus, and gone to stay with Jasper’s mother?” Trent ventured. “They’re closing the Blueveil road to traffic from 5pm. There’s concerns about flash flooding. Probably decided it was safer to stay in Grampleton.”

He was probably right, but Marnie’s hands were shaking as she dialed Emma’s number.

“No,” Emma sounded distant, dazed. “They’re not here.”

Dammit. So where the hell were they?

In desperation, she called Shane. But Zuzu was an hour’s drive away – longer by bus – and surely if the kids had turned up on his doorstep, he’d have called to let her know. “She’s not here,” he replied, panic in his voice. “Have you tried the mines? Or the Adventurer’s Guild? Shit.”

Lightning flashed outside, closely followed by a low rumbling peal of thunder that made the windows rattle. 

“I’m scared,” Katie whispered. She huddled in the corner with the dogs. They may not be pets, but they could hardly leave them outside in this weather. The other animals were secured in the barn.

“I’m going to drive around town,” Trent said. “You ring around, surely someone will have seen them.”

“Be careful,” she whispered. Lightning flashed again. “Drive safe.” The low, deep rumble of thunder.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Trent attempted to reassure her, but she could hear the quiver in his voice.

She rang Mayor Lewis, informed him of the situation. “I’ll call around,” he assured her. 

Then the Adventurer’s Guild. “I’m sorry I always seem to be bothering you about our emergencies. But Mona and Jasper didn’t come home from school. And with the storm and all... I’m worried.”

“We’re friends,” Marlon said. “You’re not bothering me at all, Marns, I’m happy to help. Where’s Trent?”

“Out, driving around, looking for them. But... do you think they might be in the mines?”

“Father and Roland have gone in already. Marnie,” he said, voice was bone-chillingly serious. “This is no natural storm. Something has woken in the Void. Marnie, we need Rasmodius – but the mountain road’s washed out. Can you contact Trent, ask him to drive over there?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And please,” Marlon insisted. “Whatever you do, stay inside! And keep safe. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you too.”

She hung up, and the phone rang straight away. Trent. “The river’s rising, the road to Cindersap’s been washed out. We’re evacuating Willow Lane into the Saloon. It’s higher and solid – so should be safe. I won’t be able to make it back tonight – but, be careful. Please. Love you.”

“Shit,” Marnie muttered. She went into the mudroom and located her gumboots and the thickest raincoat she could find.

“What are you doing?” Katie stared at her, eyes wide and wild. “You’re not going out there, are you?”

Marnie swallowed. “I have to,” she said. “I need to... deliver a message.”

“Don’t leave me alone!” Katie’s voice rose, petulant and terrified. Lightning flashed again, and she shrieked. “Please! I’m scared.” 

“Oh honey. Katie-cat.” Marnie wrapped her arms around the girl. They shivered together as thunder rumbled around them. “You’ll be okay. It’s warm in here, and dry – and the dogs will look after you.” She kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be right back, I promise.” Hopefully not a lie. “Why don’t you put on some music, or watch a movie?”

Katie nodded, looking slightly pacified. “Don’t be long,” she whispered.

Marnie ducked into the girls’ room, to grab Mona’s hairbrush, then into Jasper’s room and scooped a dirty sock off the floor. It was probably a long shot, but perhaps Rasmodius would track them. Then, because she also believed in being prepared, she snatched up the first aid kit and the heavy-duty waterproof flashlight that they kept near the door. An umbrella would be nice, but was out of the question; the wind howled and rattled the windows. She’d just have to get wet.

“If the power goes out,” Marnie said to Katie, “Please don’t light any candles. You’ve got a torch, right?”

Katie nodded mutely. She’d grabbed all the duvets out of the closet, and cocooned herself in them, a dog curled on each side, and slipped ‘Twilight’ into the DVD player.

“There’s a box of biscuits on the top shelf of the pantry,” Marnie added. “If you need any comfort food. And keep your phone beside you.” She hugged her again. “You’ll be fine.” She planted a kiss on the girl’s forehead. Katie flinched a little, unused to such gestures. “You’re fierce. Like a tiger.”

Katie flicked her a slightly shaky thumbs-up. 

Marnie pulled the raincoat on over the backpack and eased open the door – the wind grabbed it, slammed it against the wall. A shudder passed through the house, making Katie emit a small squeak of fear and the dogs bark.

Marnie stepped out into the rain.


	31. The Rescue Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marnie braves the storm to rescue her beloved Mona.

The rain was a solid wall of water, and within minutes the thick jacket was plastered to Marnie’s body. The storm had turned Cindersap forest from friendly woods into a fairy-tale nightmare. The branches, shaking bare their leaves, rattled and twisted like they were alive. And she could hear creatures, eerie spectral howling – or perhaps that was just the wind?

Please let it just be the wind.

She’d walked this route hundreds of times, but the rain transformed the path into mud, and stripped away familiar landmarks. 

This was a terrible idea. Hell, for all she knew, Rasmodius could have already gotten himself to the Adventurer’s Guild.

Lightning flashed again, and she heard the cracking, splintering of breaking wood. “Shit.” 

Turn back Marnie, the sensible part of her mind insisted. But she forged on. Somewhere, out there, alone in this storm, were Mona and Jasper. If Rasmodius could find them, it would all be worth it.

Cinders Lake appeared through the haze to her right. Good, she was on track. Mud squelched at her boots. In the darkling gloom, the water looked almost black, and it had swollen over its banks, devouring the path. Something screeched, and her heart kicked a rapid tempo against her ribs. A bat, wings black as ink, flapping towards her. Another, close behind it.

But bats weren’t dangerous. They were probably just hunting insects, or something. Insects came out more in the rain, didn’t they?

The bat swooped on her. It was massive, wingspan as wide as her forearm was long, its teeth flashed white in the flashlight, but its eyes burned unnaturally red. She screamed, swung the torch at it. Missed. It slashed past her face, slicing a hot, stinging trail in its wake. Its companions shrieked in shrill excitement.

Marnie ran. The mud sucked at her boots. She might be of ample size, but she wasn’t unfit, though her legs burned with the exertion. The bats dive-bombed her, pounding against the thick coat, their claws unable to gain purchase on the PVC coating. The wizard’s tower rose out of the haze before her, windows alight, and smoke billowing from its tower.

Not much further Marnie, she urged herself.

Then a shadow stepped in front of her, rose its hand, and a heavy icy chill enveloped her.

Failure. Thousands of voices whispered. Barren. Whore. Adulteress.

“No,” she pleaded. “I’m none of those things.”

“You fucked another because your husband couldn’t give you what you wanted.”

“You’ve failed the ones you cared for. Failed to protect them. Let harm fall upon them.”

“Failure.”

“Now your children are going to die.”

“But they’re not really you’re children. You’re a thief. Your own womb was barren, so you took, took, took to satisfy your needs.”

“You failed Catriona.”

“You failed Mona.”

“You failed Emma.”

“You failed Marlon.”

“You’ve let everyone down, Harmony. Why, your parents don’t even want to know you.”

“That’s not true!”

“Yes-it-is-yes-it-is-yes-it-is.”

“Fight it Marnie. Fight it!” A voice, cutting through the spectral chorus, low, deep.

Human.

Safe. 

A flash of light, that seared to the backs of her eyes, turned her vision into brightness.

Hands upon her. Strong hands, rough with wear but gentle in nature. Arms enfolding her. “You’re safe now.”

She was walking, was she walking? Or was she being carried? Dragged? Ground beneath her feet no longer mud, now firm. Stone. 

Blinking, blinking, vision clearing. A face. Kind, scarred, a concerned half-smile. A single storm-gray eye.

“Marlon?” she whispered. “But...” You’re trapped, up on the mountain. “You came for me.”

“Always,” he whispered. “I’ll always be here, when you need me.”

Her hands were so cold that Marlon had to help her unzip the jacket. And it was slicked so close to her clothes, that it was like sloughing off a second skin. Somehow, amazingly, the clothing beneath remained dry, but she’d started shivering now, and found that she couldn’t quite stop.

Marlon draped a robe around her shoulders.

Then Rasmodius was beside them, pressing a mug of spiced tea into her hands. “Sit,” he said, steering her over to the couch in his study.

“Was that? A....” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “a monster.”

“A shadow brute, yes,” Marlon stalked past. He was clad in riding leathers, and his belt bristled with weapons: a sword at each hip. “And that, dear Marnie, was your first brush with the Void.” She could feel anger in him now, his lean body tense. He turned on her. “I told you to stay inside! What the hell were you doing out there in the woods?”

She cowered back. This was not a side of the gentle warrior she had ever imagined. “You asked me to take a message to Rasmodius,” she whispered.

Marlon visibly crumpled. “Yes,” he muttered. “Yes I did. But, if you recall correctly, I suggested you ask Trent to drive over here, and warned you against leaving the house. Fuck.” He turned angrily and slammed the heel of his hand against the wall. “You could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t.” Marnie felt the fire surge inside her. “I’m not some fat, soft woman that should be kept locked up safe, while others fight my battles.” She stood, marched towards Marlon, although she was a full head shorter than he, placing her eyes at chest-height. Not very menacing. “My kids are in danger! And you,” she jabbed her finger in his chest, which had zero effect whatsoever, except to make him look startled, “told me you were stuck on the fucking mountain. How are you here?”

“Oh, quit bickering,” Rasmodius purred. He held a scepter in one hand. “You two are worse than oh, what’s that book...” He snapped his fingers. “No, lost it. Never mind. Anyway, go on, kiss and make up, we’ve got work to do.”

Marlon took a step back, ran his fingers through his hair, and had the good grace to look sheepish. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I was just worried about you, okay?” He offered her his hand. “Friends?”

She accepted, shook it, then pulled him into a hug. “Forever.”

“Right,” Rasmodius continued. “Long story short: Void is rising. Warrior couldn’t come to me, so I went to him. It’s a simple enough spell: teleportation. No big. He insisted on ringing your house, and the young lady there told him you’d gone out – alone – into the forest. So he bullied me into bringing him back here, and then insisted on going out to find you. Because he’s a big hero.” He slapped Marlon on the back.

Marnie drew out the hairbrush and the sock. “Can you track them?”

Rasmodius tucked the scepter under his arm and took both items gingerly, holding the sock at arm’s length. “I can try.” He stalked into the pantry, gathered up an armload of ingredients and headed for his chamber.

“You’re bleeding,” Marlon said. His tone gentler. Marnie put her fingers to her cheek. She’d thought it was just water, but there was blood on her fingers.

“The bats got me.” She took out the first aid kit, and found the antiseptic wipes.

“That’s our healer,” she could hear the smile of pride in Marlon’s voice. “Always prepared. Here, let me.” He took the sachet from her hand, and dabbed away the blood.

His touch was gentle, and some of the tension began to ease out of her, was replaced, instead with tears.

Marnie let herself sink against his chest, and his warm, strong arms enfolded her. He stroked her hair. She could have, perhaps, stayed like that forever, feeling warm and safe, had Rasmodius not called from the other chamber: “I’ve found her.” 

Five candles flickered, one at each corner of the pentagram painted on the floor. Their light cast trails along the arms of the star, coalescing above the hairbrush in the center. The light formed an image, made of shadows and fire, flickering as the candles sputtered.

Mostly shadows, but a trunk rose from the center, forking into branches. A tree made of firelight, surrounded by darkness.

“The castle,” Marlon whispered, and shuddered. 

“The tree.” Rasmodius’s tone was flat. “If they’ve eaten the fruit, Marlon.”

Marlon’s expression was grave. “We need to find them.”

“What’s going on?” Marnie croaked, hugging her backpack. Bewildered; there was nothing in their tone that indicated any of this was good.

“We need to go,” Rasmodius answered. “And now, before it’s too late.”

“I’m going with you,” Marnie declared. Couldn’t stand the thought of being abandoned again, left waiting to see if they’d ever return.

“No,” Marlon said sternly. “It’s too dangerous.”

Rasmodius studied her for a long moment, his eyes dark and intent. “Actually,” he said, flashing Marlon a quick smile. “I think she might be just what we need. Besides, I’m not leaving her here.” He gestured at his chamber, at the cauldron bubbling in the corner, and the mystical pentagram painted on the floor. “Who knows what mischief she might make.”

He stepped into the center of the pentagram, and held out his hands to the two of them. Marnie slung her backpack over her shoulders and accepted without hesitation, but Marlon cast the two of them a dark look before clasping Rasmodius’s hand.

“Right,” said Rasmodius, He held the scepter before him and the stone set into its pommel, an aquamarine, began to glow. “Hand on the staff, please people. This may be a little uncomfortable.”

Marnie closed her fingers about the wood, Marlon’s hand above hers. His smile was warm, forehead creased into a concerned frown. His little finger traced the curve of her thumb. “It’ll be alright,” he said. “We’ll find her. Find them.”

And the world tore apart.

A dizzying sense of movement, like riding a roller-coaster, combined with a burning, prickling sensation along every cell of her body. Like she was being devoured by hungry ants. Then it was over, and she was standing in a torrential waterfall of rain and Marlon’s arm was around her, steadying her, as she fell to her knees and vomited into the grass.

“There, there,” he soothed.

She wiped the back of her hand over her mouth and stood shakily. “That was terrible.”

Rasmodius shrugged. “I did warn you.”

“A little uncomfortable?” she raged. “That was freaking agonizing! Where are we?” Her gaze cast out, through the drenching rain, saw fields of wheat, and corn, and beyond them, a pumpkin patch. “Darkhaven?”

“Aye.” Marlon nodded and drew his sword. “Come on, let’s go.”

He jogged off into the downpour. Marnie and Rasmodius fell into step behind him. Along a cobblestone path, and into a cave, behind the greenhouse.

Silence, even the rain felt muted, as though the cave somehow muffled everything.

“Right,” Marlon said. “I’ll lead, Marns, you stay in the middle. Ras, bring up the rear.” He took a dagger from his belt, and pressed it into Marnie’s hands. “If anything comes at you – especially those bastard bats – stab them. The Void is restless, there’s no telling what we might encounter.”

She studied the blade. It glinted purple in the light from Rasmodius’s scepter. The light also illuminated a narrow tunnel, leading steeply downwards. Marlon ducked and entered it, and, swallowing hard, wondering just what she was getting herself into, Marnie fell into step behind him.


	32. Down Underground

Silence, but for the drip-drip-drip of water, and the tread of feet, the rustle of leather, and even those seemed somehow too loud yet simultaneously muffled: like the rock was somehow absorbing all sound. Rasmodius’s aquamarine cast the dark world into an eerie shade of blue. Ahead, Marlon moved with the stalking grace of a predator, focused and intent, his limp barely noticeable. Behind her, Rasmodius’s expression was grim.

The ground was irregular, scattered with rock and shale, water pooling in the cracks and crevasses. Marnie followed in Marlon’s footsteps, placing each foot with care. Their breath misted and goosebumps prickled her skin. 

Ahead, a boulder blocked their path. She heard Marlon intake a short sharp breath, and whisper, “Beware.”

He drew his second sword and, a purple blade in each hand, stalked towards the boulder. A few feet from it, he glanced back, and gave Rasmodius a barely perceptible nod. The wizard scooped up a rock, held it in his hand for a moment. Faint lines spread across its surface, twisted to form symbols. Magical runes?

Rasmodius flung the stone. It whistled through the air, trailing golden sparks in its wake, and struck the boulder. Light exploded, and the boulder lurched upright.

And rose, on six insectile legs, each as thick as a sapling tree. Dark orbs glistened above a massive pair of jaws, and it slashed blindly with a huge crab-like pincer.

Marnie barely stifled a squeak of fear. 

Marlon lunged, sword flaring purple as it caught the gargantuan crab beneath the shell, black ichor bubbled forth, pouring from the wound. It slashed again, and the warrior leaped aside, nimble as a cat. Rasmodius pushed past Marnie. She could only stand there, knuckles tight around her dagger, heart racing high in her throat.

Now this, this was a monster.

“Cover your eyes,” Rasmodius shouted, and Marnie barely had time to fling her arm up before the entire chamber erupted in stark blue light. There came a terrible squelching, sucking sound, followed by a crashing clatter, and pebbles rained down around her.

Lowering her arm, Marnie blinked away the bright stars that danced in her vision. The gigantic crab lay crumpled on the ground, legs sprawled, in a puddle of thick black ooze.

Marlon wiped the blades on his cloak. “And that,” he informed her, “is a rock crab.”

“Holy Yoba,” Marnie whispered, surprised to find that her voice didn’t wobble. “Okay, I admit it. That’s definitely a monster.”

Marlon flashed her a grin. “Hah, I knew we’d make a believer of you, one day. Still think we could have saved it?” He nudged it with his boot.

A shiver passed down her spine, and she moved closer to him. Saw blood on his cheek. “Now you’re bleeding,” she whispered.

He wiped his hand across it. “Just a scratch. Come on, we better go. Marns, can you please stay to my right? Let me know if you see anything move? My peripheral vision ain’t so great, anymore.”

They stumbled together, deeper into the bowels of the earth. Gemstones and ore glittered in the stone strata, and Marlon ducked and weaved his way through a forest of stalactites. He’d sheathed one of his swords, used his left hand to steady himself. Behind them, Rasmodius’s warmth, and the light he cast, reassured her.

“Why couldn’t we just teleport straight in?” Marnie wondered, very quietly.

“Teleportation isn’t about magically moving from point A to point B,” Rasmodius tried to explain. “Think of the world as being covered in, well, spectral train tracks – they’re called ley lines. And where two ley lines cross, they create a node – which are basically train stations. There’s one in Darkhaven, another slightly south of the Adventurer’s Guild – and, of course – the watch-tower was built on one.”

“And we... ride them?”

He gave a low chuckle and stooped beneath a low overhang of rock. “Oh yes – the same way electricity rides through power lines, by being reduced down to our atoms. And put back together again.”

Marnie shuddered. “That sounds... very dangerous.”

“It is,” Marlon said in his low rumble.

“Oh yes,” Rasmodius replied casually. “Especially with multiple people. Goodness, imagine if we were pieced back together, and combined.” She could hear the smile in his words. “Why, if things went wrong – or very, very right, I suppose – Marnie could end up with a bit of you inside her.”

Marlon made a weird noise halfway between a gasp and a laugh, and lurched sideways. Marnie caught his elbow, steadied him.

“Rasmus,” she growled.

He answered her with a dry chuckle. 

“What was that?” she whispered. Had heard something, distant, a high-pitched squeaking, growing louder... and louder.

“Bats!” Marlon shouted. “Come on.” Stooping into a crouch, he jogged through the cave, clambering over a sprawl of loose shale. Marnie stumbled up after him, slipped and half-slid down the other side. Her feet splashed into water.

“Is this... normal?” 

Marlon helped her to her feet. “Does any of this seem normal to you?” he asked.

Rasmodius’s light followed them, illuminating a large cavern.

They were in a large cavern. Light glinted off multiple facets of ice: a frozen waterfall that cascaded down one wall and flowed across the floor, slick and solid. Blues and reds and yellows glinted beneath the surface. Above, the ceiling rose like that of a cathedral, stalactites forming a network of chandeliers.

“It’s beautiful,” Marnie gasped.

“Incoming!” Rasmodius warned. “Prepare yourself.”

Marlon unsheathed both swords again, and he and Rasmodius fell into position, back to back. Marnie fell in between them, the third point in their defensive triangle. Her fingers tightened white against the blade. It seemed pitifully small. 

The bats came in a swarm. Squeaking, diving. Marlon’s twin blades sliced easily, cleaving the flying mammals in twain, bat-wings and blood falling like rain. One dove at Marnie, and she cursed, thrust the dagger before her. Felt a terrible, wretched shudder as the mammal flew straight into the blade and twitched upon it. Its blood flowed down to her hand, sticky but ice-cold. It slashed at her, its death-squeals so high-pitched it was like physical pain to her ears. She fumbled the blade, dropped it, and jumped back as the bat twitched and contorted at her feet.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the flock had gone, and the ground around them was littered with bat-wings and speckled with black blood. Rasmodius scooped up the wings. “What?” he said to Marnie’s questioning frown. “The Void holds potent magical energy. Dark energy, yes, but it can be harnessed to noble purpose.”

“We need to find the kids,” Marnie insisted.

Marlon crushed the still struggling bat between his boot, and drew the dagger from it. He wiped it on his cloak and handed it back to Marnie. “She’s right. We cannot afford to dally.” He began to pick his way across the frozen water. “Tread carefully.”

“They seriously came down here by themselves? And you let them?” Marnie stumbled after him, shivering. Drew the cloak tighter about herself.

Rasmodius gave her a skeptical glance. “She’s my daughter,” he said. “And you raised her. But do you really think she’d listen?”

“Couldn’t you, I dunno, ward it off or something?” Marlon helped her up the steep, slick rock.

“Considered it,” Rasmodius replied, using his scepter as a walking stick. “But one day, well, one day someone’s going to have to take our place. It should be Olly’s Isla but, who knows? She might take after her grandmother, or never return to the Valley. Might become, I dunno, an accountant like her father. Mona has spirit, and the Valley needs a wizard.” He shrugged.

“What about Abigail? She’s yours too.” Marnie, is that bitterness in your voice? Do you really want to throw Abigail into this life, just to spare Mona the pain?

“Lass is good with a sword,” Marlon replied. “Think the Werner blood’s run true there.” He hunched over and slunk sideways through a narrow crevasse – ignoring the very obvious corridor ahead.

“It’s all about blood ties to you guys, isn’t it?” Marnie snapped. “Like they’re not really people, just... heirs. Like what they – Abigail, Mona, Isla – really want, doesn’t matter, because, somehow, the blood is more important.” Her backpack caught against the wall and she wrenched it free with a snarl. “It’s bullshit. My parents are freaking musicians – but I made my own choice, and I’m choosing to run a goddamned ranch. Who are you to deny these kids that choice? Give them some crappy ‘Chosen One’ story. Screw that.” Marnie couldn’t really explain why this concept was making her so angry. Couldn’t abide the thought of her daughter (in spirit if not in blood) was somehow destined to be stuck with this life. “If Benjamin had've lived, would this have been his fate?” she added in a whisper.

Rasmodius’s hand closed on her shoulder, and she could feel the anger and grief shaking through him. “Why do you think I never wanted kids?” he whispered. “And Marlon practically turned himself into a monk.”

“Hey!” Marlon scowled. “I resent that. Just because I can’t claim blood ties to half the kids in town.”

“Two,” Rasmodius returned. “Just two!”

“Not Emily then?” Marnie ventured. They crossed over a narrow stone bridge. She tried not to glance down into the frigid waters, beneath which lights flickered. “Or Sebastian?”

He snorted a laugh. “Heck no. She’s just … quirky. And Sebastian... well, isn’t the whole kiddie goth-emo thing so–”

Marlon held up his hand, and Rasmodius fell instantly silent. The two seemed so in sync that, not for the first time, Marnie wondered if they were actually a couple. There was something decidedly bisexual about Rasmodius, and Marlon was, well, wearing tight leathers. And she hadn’t seen him show any interest in a girl since Clarissa in High School. Hell, he even wrote semi-decent poetry.

Then she heard why he’d suggested silence.

It wasn’t a monster.

Someone up ahead was sobbing.


	33. Against the Void

The sound caught Marnie like a punch in the gut. She hurried to Marlon’s side, whispered in his ear, “Is it a trap?”

He squeezed her shoulder. “I don’t know. Don’t trust anything down here. The shadow shaman have many tricks.”

“But they don’t lurk in the frozen quadrant,” Rasmodius’s voice a low whisper from her other side. “It’s a woman, I think. Or...”

Or a girl. “Mona,” Marnie breathed. Was it her imagination, or could she feel the person up ahead? Frightened, alone. Grieving. No maliciousness in her. She reached down, clasped Marlon’s hand with one hand, Rasmodius’s with the other. “We have to help her.”

She crept forward, guiding the others, only dropping their grips to scramble up and over a ridge, and through a narrow opening. Marlon close behind her. “Careful Marns,” he whispered, tense with concern.

She swallowed. Saw a figure, crouching next to a boulder. Hands clasped to her chest. Sobs shuddered through her body. The ground around her was littered with bat wings, tufts of fur and spattered with droplets of blood.

“Mona,” she gasped.

“Careful,” Rasmodius cautioned her. “The magic pulses through her. An untrained, grieving wizard can be dangerous.” He gave a small, hollow laugh. “Just ask my ex-wife.” Marnie nodded. She handed the dagger back to Marlon. “I won’t need this.”

He took it, sheathed it and drew her into a hug, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “Good luck.”

Marnie could feel the shadows that surrounded Mona. They weren’t merely physical shadows, more like the broiling gray clouds before a storm. Ominous, filled with potent energy. Dark energy? She circled around her, fought the urge to run straight towards the frightened girl.

“Mona?” she whispered, crouching low, and hands palm up, as though she were approaching a frightened animal.

Mona looked up, and Marnie barely stifled a gasp. For Mona’s eyes were black, iris, sclera, everything, but when her eyes focused on Marnie, the iris flared ice-cold white, like burning light. Energy flared, the shadows deepened, and a low shudder passed through the walls of the chamber.

“Shit,” she heard Rasmodius mutter, and gave the smallest shake of her head, hoping he understood. Don’t hurt her. Don’t move. I’ve got this.

“It’s me, Mona,” Marnie kept her voice low, gently coaxing. “Marnie. Your... your mother. I’m not going to hurt you. Please.”

“My mother’s dead,” Mona rasped. Her voice both high and low, and every octave in between. “You’re not my mother.”

“But I love you as a daughter,” Marnie continued, trying to still the racing in her heart. “The daughter of my heart, if not my womb. Please. I need you to come home, Mona.”

Mona blinked, and when her eyes opened, the sclera had returned to white, the darkness retreating into the iris, then further, disappearing into her pupil. Iris deep-blue again. “Mom,” she whispered, her voice now one voice. Her own voice. Broken, wretched, mourning. 

Marnie opened her arms, and Mona ran into her embrace.

“He’s gone Mom,” she sobbed. “The water took him away from me. I... I tried to stop it. But I couldn’t. His hands were in mine and the water was around us and then... then he wasn’t there anymore. And my hands were cold and empty. And he was gone... I was so frightened. Please, I want to go home, take me home.”

The tension in the air dissipated, like the storm had passed. And Mona was sobbing, and Marnie was sobbing, then Marlon and Rasmodius were beside them. “I told you we needed her,” she heard Rasmodius whisper.

Marlon held up his hands in mock surrender. “Let’s get them home.”

*

They retraced their steps. Rasmodius tapped his scepter twice, and handed it to Marnie, then scooped his daughter up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and buried her head in his chest. Shivers racked her body.

Marlon and Marnie followed close behind. Energy hummed through the scepter and, although the light dimmed in her touch, its illumination was warm and welcome. Marnie felt exhausted, like she’d been running on adrenaline and now they’d found Mona, that had fled. Too soon, she told it. Get us home safe first. By the time they finally, reached the frozen cavern, she felt almost as though she were sleep-walking, and it was only Marlon’s gentle hands and whispered encouragement that kept her feet moving.

“Let me take the girl,” Marlon muttered. “And take the damned scepter back.” 

“No,” Rasmodius growled.

“Please.” Marnie felt Marlon squeeze her shoulder. It felt distant, far away. “It’s draining her.”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry.” Shuffling around her, then the scepter was pried from her hands. The weight of sleep, which had been suffocatingly close, retreated, and the cold snapped her back into awareness.

“What the hell?” Marnie blinked the world back into sharper focus.

Marlon sighed. “And that’s why magic should never be harnessed by mere mortals,” he muttered. “It uses your energy to power itself,” he informed her.

“Oh.” Her limbs felt lighter again.

“She’s my daughter,” Rasmodius muttered. “Sorry Marn. I didn’t think. I just wanted to help her.”

“It’s okay,” the words came slightly slurred. She swallowed, shook her head, in an attempt to unmuffle her thoughts. “I understand.”

“I can walk,” Mona insisted, her voice small and shaky but with an edge of determination. Marlon set her on the ground.

“You sure kid?”

She nodded, face grim. “I’m not like... some weak girl that might as well be a sack of potatoes or, or... a lampshade. I’m a wizard. I can help.”

“That’s my girl,” said Rasmodius, pride in his voice.

They exited the caverns safely, although outside thunder still rumbled and lightning flashed. 

“Can you teleport us home?” Marnie asked. The rain finished waking her up. She had no desire to experience that fracturing dislocation of teleportation again, but wanted to get Mona home and safe as soon as possible.

“Only to my tower,” Rasmodius replied. “Otherwise, we’ll have to walk.”

“I need to get to Katie,” Marnie said. The poor girl had been home alone for hours.

“The farm’s not safe.” Marlon tense and alert, eye darting about, gaze taking in the dark shadow of the crops, the bushes that flanked the path. “We need to move, and move fast.”

There came a sound like the snap of a whip, and the greenhouse exploded. The wizard slashed a rune in the air with his scepter and a shield of light enveloped them. Chunks of glass, huge jagged, sharp, struck a barrier, mere inches from Marnie’s face.

“Did you take anything from the castle?” Rasmodius demanded, desperation hoarse in his voice.

Mona shook her head.

“Did you eat the fruit?”

“No,” she shouted. “I’m not an idiot!” Then added in a whisper. “But... but Jasper did. I’d read the story... worried about... about the baby. Jasper believed... it would give him knowledge, power. M-make him immortal.”

“Damn fool,” Rasmodius muttered. 

A monster erupted from the shattered remnants of the building. Lightning flashed, illuminating its brilliant green scales, its broad mouth, filled with razor sharp teeth. “Is that... a dragon?” Marnie whispered.

Marlon’s swords were in his hands. “Run!” he barked at them. Mona needed no further encouragement, and bolted down the path, through the fields of crops. Marnie cast one final glance at Marlon, dancing from foot to foot, dodging and slashing at the creature, and Rasmodius, scepter clutched in one hand, trying to guide it away from them.

“Come on,” Mona shouted.

“Fight well,” Marnie whispered, and ran after the girl.

They sprinted around the pond. Stitch exploded in Marnie’s side, but she forced herself onwards. Past the barn, when lightning arced from the sky, speared straight towards them. Mona shrieked, and sketched a quick rune in the air with her fingers. Charred wood and charcoal rained down around them, and the stink of burning wood filled the air. 

“Shit,” Mona cursed and stamped her foot. “Dammit.”

With an almighty crack, the pine tree split down the center. A branch crashed down on the roof of the barn. Fire danced along its boughs.

“The goats!” Marnie cried. She scrambled over the fence, all but tumbled on the far side, and heaved open the barn door. The goats cascaded out, bleating in terror, and she struggled to keep her feet in the tide of them. 

Mona leaned over the fence and grabbed her wrist. “Come on.” She pulled her from the crushing fray and back over the fence. “We have to go. I’ve lost my focus stone, but I can shield the house... I think. Here... here it’s too strong.”

Something rattled off the path, like pebbles being shaken in a canister, and something stumbled from the bushes in front of them. A lurching, jerking humanoid shape, like a demented puppet. Marnie shrieked, stumbled back, arm up to defend herself against its razor-like talons. Pain erupted, cold and sharp, and blood trickled down her fingers.

“Freak!” Mona sprang between them, swung at it with a tree branch. The weird weed-puppet stumbled back from the blow, sprawling back against the fence. She drew her arm back to swing it again, to pound it into its components, but Marnie seized her arm.

“We have to go.” Rattling, off to the sides of the path. “There’s more of them. What in Yoba’s name is going on?”

“The Void,” Mona growled.

They ran, Mona clutching the branch like it was a club.

A high-pitched squealing, the beating of wings. “Bats!” 

Mona vaulted over the farm gate, Marnie scrambled after her. As soon as her feet landed on Cindersap soil, the oppressive, stifling wrongness of Darkhaven vanished. Everything just felt.. purer, cleaner.

No time to hesitate though, because the bats were still coming. The wind howled, twisted the trees into ominous dancing skeletons.

Marnie fumbled to insert her key in the lock. Her fingers so numb with cold and wet with blood, that she could struggled to turn it.

“Hurry.” Mona clasped her bleeding hand, helped her turn the key. Blood trickled down the girl’s left arm, and she dabbed her fingers in it, began to sketch runes across the door frame of the ranch house. “It’s only a scratch,” she answered Marnie’s worried gaze. “Damn golem got me too.”

The wing-beats grew louder, audible even above the howl of the storm. The key clicked in the lock. Marnie turned the handle and the wind snatched the door from her hand, slammed it against the wall. A scream from inside, the dogs barked.

“It’s us!” Marnie shouted. “We’re back!” She pushed Mona through, and almost tripped over Pepper in her haste to follow.

Pepper pushed past her, out onto the step, barking into the storm.

“Inside!” Marnie commanded, leaping forward to grab the dog by the collar. Pepper struggled, too incensed to obey.

A shadow scythed towards them. Glowing red eyes, broad wings. Marnie wrestled the dog into the mudroom. “Close the door!” she shouted to Mona.

Mona struggled with it. The bat dived through the open door and let out an unholy screech, then tumbled to the floor. Pepper struggled free from Marnie’s grasp and pounced on it.

The door slammed shut. Followed by a series of horrible thudding squelches as the rest of the flock struck the wood.

“Holy Yoba,” Mona breathed, then grinned and pumped her fist in the air. “My ward worked!”

Pepper, growl low in her throat, shook the bat, spraying blood across the floor.

“Pepper, drop,” Marnie commanded. This time, the dog obeyed. The bat twitched feebly. Light crackled along the veins of its leathery wings, and the red had faded from its eyes. Whether because it was dying, or because of the ward, Marnie could not be sure.

“I’m gonna ward the windows!” Mona shouted, darting away.

“What the fuck is going on?” Katie ran into the room, stared down at the bat.

“Stay back from it,” Marnie instructed. “It could have rabies.” It had stopped twitching, but she wasn’t yet willing to believe it was dead. 

“I’m so glad you’re back!” Katie flung herself into Marnie’s arms. “You were gone for hours and hours and hours and the power went off, and I was so scared!”

Marnie hugged her. “Oh Katie-cat. I’m so sorry pet. You did well, really well. Thank you for looking after the house. Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll put the kettle on.” Thank goodness for the old coal range, and the battery powered hurricane lamp. She washed the blood from her hand, cleaned the wound – shallow, thank Yoba – and wrapped it in gauze.

Mona joined them a short while later. “I’ve placed wards on all the window-sills,” she said proudly.

“Ewww,” Katie exclaimed. “There’s like, blood, all over your arm.”

“It’s just a scratch,” Mona insisted, but rolled back her sleeve. Three parallel gashes. Deep, but not deep enough to need stitches. 

“Do you think Rasmodius and Marlon are okay?” Mona whispered.

“I hope so.” Marnie cleaned the wound with antiseptic wipes, before covering it in a clean gauze. “Yoba, I hope so.” Was that something scratching at their window? No, probably just a tree branch.

Katie slipped into the chair beside them. “Oh, Trent called,” she threw out, almost casually. “I told him you’d gone out. To see the so-called wizard.”

“What?” Marnie fumbled in her pocket for the phone, drew it out. Twelve missed calls, all from Trent’s number. 

“Well that was where you went, wasn’t it? To visit the mystery man in the tower? Is that where you were, Mona?”

Mona shook her head. 

Marnie tapped in Trent’s number. It went straight to voice-mail.

“Well, where were you then?” Katie continued with the barrage of questions. “Why did you run away? Where’s Jasper? What happened?”

“Jasper’s gone,” Mona replied, and broke into tears.


	34. After The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marnie might have saved Mona from the caverns, and they all survived the storm... but that doesn't mean it's over.  
> No, the worst is yet to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be my only upload today, because it's long, emotionally painful, and I'm busy playing 1.4.

“What in Yoba’s name did you think you were doing?” Trent was trying to keep his voice low, and calm, but the anger in it made Marnie feel weak.

She’d dried herself and changed her clothes, then rung the Stardrop Saloon’s landline, and asked Gus for her husband.

“I had to find her,” she replied, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the pouring rain. The girls – Mona now in a sweatpants and a t-shirt – lay on the blankets in the lounge, playing cards by torchlight.

“You left Katie all alone. That was reckless Marn. What if something had happened to her? Shit. They’re kids, Marn, entrusted into our care. You can’t play favorites.”

“Katie was fine,” she replied. “The house was warm, and secure. She’s fourteen years old. Hardly a child.” Was shocked at how defensive she sounded. Was it true? Was Mona her favorite? 

Ridiculous question: of course she was. Marnie would walk through molten lava for the girl, if she had to. Would she do the same for Katie? No, she realized flatly. She wouldn’t. She’d left Katie alone with barely a flicker of regret – during the worst storm she’d ever experienced.

“It’s irresponsible, Marn,” Trent growled. “And where’s Jasper? Did you find him? Did you even bother looking, after you’d found Mona?”

“No.” Her voice barely a whisper. She blinked back tears. “Mona said he’d been swept away from her. Seemed certain he’d drowned.”

“Fuck.” Trent’s voice cracked. “Dammit Marnie. Why’d they have to run away during a freaking storm.” Anguish replaced anger. “I wish I were with you right now. Is... Is Mona alright?” 

“She’s fine. Shaken, obviously, and a little scratched up – but otherwise, unhurt.”

“Good,” he said. “And I’m glad. Yes Marn, I’m glad that she’s still with us. But shit... Emma... She’s already lost her husband to the mines... now to lose her son as well...Fuck.” A whispered whimper. 

Marnie’s cell phone trilled, and vibrated across the table. Marlon’s number flashed on the screen, and Marnie’s heart gave a small, quick leap. “I have to go,” she said. “Thank you, Trent. I’m sorry. Um, I love you?”

“Yeah,” he returned. Added absently, “Love you too.” Didn’t sound entirely convincing. He was still pissed at her. Had every right to be, she supposed. He rung off, and she scooped up her phone before it skittered over the edge of the table.

“Marlon,” she gasped into the phone. “You’re alive!”

His voice rumbled back, warm and reassuring. “And kicking. We’re at Alexander’s house, licking our wounds – he isn’t here, I think he and Gil are in the mines. You home safe? Katie okay?”

“Yes. Trent’s furious though.”

A wry laugh. “I’m sure he has every right to be. Don’t leave the house again – no matter what you see or what you hear. The Void holds the reins tonight.”

*

The remainder of the night was horrible and restless. They dragged all the mattresses into the lounge, surrounded them with a fortress made of armchairs and couch. Marnie found batteries for the boom box, and slipped on ‘songs to uplift the spirit’. 

Katie studied one of the cassette tapes critically. “What is this?” she asked.

“A mix-tape,” Marnie explained. “Back in the dark ages, before BitCascade and VueTube, we used to record songs we liked – from vinyl, or the radio, or sometimes other people’s tapes – onto a blank cassette, and make collections of songs.”

“That’s actually kinda nice,” Katie commented. Then added, “Damn, This music is cheesy.”

“I dunno,” Mona said. “I kinda like it. Don’t stop believing, right?” 

The music, even loud and cheesy as it was, did little to drown out the long, low rumbles of thunder that shuddered through the house, or the flashes of light that painted the walls in eerie yellow. It definitely didn’t mask the wind, howling like a thousand lonely dogs, or the scratch-scratch-scratch of branches against the windows. 

Eventually, sleep claimed Mona and, soon thereafter, Katie. It refused to accept Marnie, however, and she sat, idly scratching Pepper behind the ear. Her heart ached with grief and fear.

Fear for her friends: their desperate battle against the Void.

Fear for her family: Jasper gone. Probably dead. Mona pregnant.

And fear, for what tomorrow might bring.

*

October 14th 2009

Dawn spread cautious fingers across the horizon, drawing back the clouds. The wind, now but a feeble breeze, the rain, a mere drizzle of moisture in the sky. Marnie crouched beside the sleeping girls. Katie’s face was slack and relaxed, peaceful, but Mona’s forehead was creased into a frown. “I’m going out to tend to the animals,” Marnie whispered, trailing her fingers down the older girl’s cheek.

Eyes opened, heavy with sleep. “I lost the necklace,” Mona slurred. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, pet.” Marnie pressed a kiss upon her forehead. “You’re safe – and that’s all that matters.”

But poor Jasper.

Mona’s eyes closed again, and her frown relaxed.

There was a text on Marnie’s phone, a simple message from Marlon: We are looking for him x.

Marnie put on gardening gloves to pick up the dead bat – just an ordinary dead brown bat now, no larger than the palm of her hand. Had she imagined the glowing eyes? The two-foot wingspan? – and put it into a plastic bag, then into the freezer. 

Pepper and Salt trailed her, tails wagging, eager to go outside. She opened the front door, and stepped out into a scene of pastoral carnage. 

The storm had left ruin in its wake. 

Broken branches littered Cindersap forest, with smoke rising from several trees burnt to charcoal. A yearling goat meandered up to her, nudged her with its head and began to chew on the edge of her coat. She scratched its head. “What happened little fella?” It bleated in response and trotted alongside her.

The rudimentary wooden bridge across the creek had washed away, and the river had risen to the cottage’s bottom step, transforming the front yard into a gigantic mud puddle. Salt’s barking carried to her, and she followed it into the woods, where he’d baled another goat – a larger buck with fearsome curving horns – up against a tree. Its head was lowered, tension thrumming through its body.

“Salt, fall back,” she commanded, and the dog obeyed.

The gate to the goat’s yard must have been blown open – or the fence knocked down – still, she supposed, that was better than them being suffocated or cooked in the barn. They’d have to round them up later.

Her gumboots squelched through the mud, headed for the stock yards. The sheep huddled against one wall of their yard, crowding under the sloping eaves of their shelter. They bleated nervously.

“Sorry guys,” she said to them. “You’ll have to stay here for now.” She’d have to walk the perimeter before she could let them back into their pasture, make sure the fence hadn’t been compromised. She heaved hay into the hoppers.

The barn, thankfully, looked intact. The thirty-odd mated ewes seemed content in their stalls, and Dandelion calmly chewed her cud, regarding Marnie with gently curious eyes. She heaved hay bales in for the animals, paused to scratch Dandelion’s head and stifle a yawn. When would Trent be home? Could he even get home? 

*

She stumbled from the farmyard, maybe an hour later, brain addled with tiredness and bearing a basket filled with eggs. Entered the house, picking hay from her hair, and heard a voice in the kitchen.

“Oh yes,” Katie was saying into the telephone. “But it was okay – I had a DVD, and the dogs. I was fine. Well, a little bit scared, but that’s okay. I understand that other things were more imp–” She saw Marnie, bounced to her feet. “Good morning, Marnie!” she said, her voice filled with false cheer. “I was just telling lovely my caseworker, Ms Brown, how brave I was last night, when you left me alone during the storm. She’d like to talk to you.”

Marnie felt a flutter of panic. “Did you call your caseworker, Katie?”

“No,” Katie replied, indignant. “She rang me – she’d heard about the storm and was worried. You know, like, four people are missing? And they had to evacuate the houses down by the river.”

Marnie put out her hand, and Katie surrendered the phone. She covered the receiver with one hand. “Katie-cat, can you please go and check on Mona? See if she’s awake yet?” Katie twitched from foot to foot, obviously eager to lurk around eavesdropping, but Marnie’s gaze was firm. Finally, she relented and retreated.

Marnie closed the door after her. Said, into the phone, “Hello?”

“Harmony Jacobson?” Ms Brown had a faint, polished accent, and a stern, no-nonsense tone. 

“Please, call me Marnie.”

“Right, Harmony,” Ms Brown continued. “Young Katie has informed me that she spent last night alone. Last night – during a storm so terrible that it has crippled your town. So, I understand that both you, and your husband, were absent?”

Marnie swallowed. “Yes,” she admitted. “As soon as we received word that neither Jasper nor Mona had returned from school, my husband, Trent, set out to see if he could find them. But the water rose, and it became too risky for him to return home.” 

“And you took the opportunity to seek comfort with your lover, leaving the dependent in your care, frightened and alone?”

Marnie’s hand shook. “No! Did Katie tell you that?” The little witch.

“It is true, however, that you went out into the rain – and left her on her own? Despite her pleading with you to stay with her.”

“Yes – but I was looking for Mona! Not...”

“For Mona and Jasper, whom you had already reported missing to the local Mayor – and whom had immediately dispatched a search party.”

He had? “He never told me that.” It felt with every word she uttered, that she was digging herself deeper, and deeper, into a pit from which she could not escape. “And I couldn’t just stay home... while she was out there, lost and alone.”

“Please,” disdain in her tone. “You are now informing me that, despite the fact that Katherine Carpenter had also been entrusted to your care, and that trained and organized search parties would be seeking your adopted daughter, that you deemed it of great import that you abandon Katherine, and join the search.”

“Well, yes.” Marnie felt heat and anger flare. “She’s my daughter! I couldn’t just sit at home and do nothing. Not with Trent stuck on the far side of the river.”

“You intentionally endangered the well-being of my client, to satisfy your maternal instincts,” Ms Brown’s voice was still calm and precise, but held an edge like a blade. “And, I understand from your records, that another child has recently been injured in your care. Not, clearly, to ignore the fact that two of your charges – including your adopted daughter – have run away.”

Shit. Marnie had been trying to keep calm, but she’d had very little sleep, and felt something inside her snap. “They’re teenagers, they do dumb stuff,” she snapped down the phone. “And they disappeared from school; I saw them board the bus with the other town kids. Why don’t you question the teachers, instead of blaming me?”

“No-one is blaming you,” Ms Brown continued. “However, I feel I should warn you, I shall be filing a charge of negligence against you, for the emotional distress you have caused my charge. You shall hear from us again, Harmony Jacobson.” She rung off.

“Shit,” Marnie shouted at the bleeping receiver and slammed it on the hook. 

“Mom?” Mona peered around the door. Her hair rumpled from sleep, expression innocent. “What’s wrong?” She padded barefoot across the room, looking so young, so fragile, that Marnie wrapped her arms around her. Wanted to hold her, and tell her that everything was going to be alright.

But what everything was, instead, was terribly, horribly wrong.

“Do you think he might still be alive?” Mona whispered. “I mean... he could swim.”

“I don’t know, pet,” Marnie replied. “But, your father and Uncle Marlon are looking for him – and if anyone can find him, they will.”

*

Marnie rapped on the door of the girls’ bedroom, then entered without waiting for an invitation. Katie lay on her bed, flicking through the images on her digital camera. “We need to talk,” Marnie said.

Katie rolled over, pulled herself into a sitting position. “What about?” she asked, all innocence.

“Firstly,” Marnie said, sitting down beside her. “I need to apologize. For leaving you alone last night.”

“That’s okay.” Katie gave a nonchalant shrug. “It makes sense that Mona’s your favorite – I mean, I’m just the temporary new kid with the dad in prison. She’s the girl you inherited as an adorable orphan. It makes sense that she’s more important than me.”

“That’s not true!” Marnie exclaimed. Wasn’t sure if Katie was being devilishly manipulative, or was just a pragmatic, lost girl. “You’re important! But... why did you tell her that I was with my lover?”

Katie shrugged. “Because you were, weren’t you? I know you two are having an affair; I saw you, a few weeks ago, standing with him, by that tree with the pretty purple flowers. You were holding hands. And he kissed you.”

It had been a platonic kiss on the cheek, and the anniversary of Benjamin’s death. 

“Katie,” Marnie said tiredly. “Rasmus and I are friends, old friends. We’re not having an affair.”

“Whatever.” She shrugged. “I don’t care. You do you, right?”

Marnie sighed.. Teenagers. “Do you know what’s going to happen now?”

Katie glanced back at her camera, kept flicking through the images. “Oh,” she replied, “I imagine I’ll be taken away – probably end up back in Zuzu city. That’s cool. Kinda miss the big city. Turns out country life is mostly boring.”

*

Trent arrived home late-afternoon, and he was not alone.

“Shane!” Mona darted from her room, and leaped down the steps into his arms. “You made it! You’re late!”

“Of course,” her brother laughed, wrapping his arms around her. “You know I’d walk through the ocean to get to you, Mo. But yeah, sorry. They didn’t open the Blueveil ‘til noon. “You knew?” Marnie asked her. “You knew he was coming?”

Mona rolled her eyes and waved her cellphone. “Of course.”

Trent shrugged “Hey, don’t look at me. I’ve been helping sweep mud out of houses, and try and salvage what’s left of the community center.”

“What happened to the community center?” This was news to Marnie; she’d been caught up in her own personal drama for most of the day. Guilt crushed in on her – she hadn’t even thought to turn on the radio.

“Lightning strike?” Trent replied, scratching his head. “Hard to know for sure. Every window was shattered, parts of the ceiling had collapsed, and massive holes were torn in the floor. Almost like... like something came out of it.”

The Void? Marnie thought. “Anyone hurt?”

“Not physically, no – but … well, we were camped out in the saloon, and that blue-haired lass, Emily had fallen asleep in one of the armchairs. Around midnight, she suddenly sat bolt upright, and started to scream. Then she whispered, ‘it’s awake’ and the wind howled like we were trapped in a hurricane, and one of the windows shattered. A couple of bats flew in – big buggers, aggressive too – but Kenneth and Sam managed to herd them into the kitchen and trapped them in the meat locker. Froze them. Some of the others – Pam, Penny, Jodi – were praying, but the rest of us barricaded the windows with furniture. It was not a fun night. Especially not when I knew my wife was out there, in it, somewhere.” “Yoba,” Marnie whispered. And she’d left Katie all alone. No wonder the kid was upset. “I’m sorry,” she said.

*

Marlon:  
no sign j but found roland. hip shattered raving about void. been airlifted to zuzu. hope u ok x 

Marnie:  
We fine. Bat in freezer. Attacked us last night. Flew thru Monas ward. Turned normal. Thought R Might be intersted? Sry to hear about Rol. How is R taking it? xo 

Marlon:  
R vry intersted in bat. Will pick up 2morrow. Ask M to copy wards? Possible void cure????! x 

Marnie:  
Wilco. Be careful. xo

* 

October 15th

“We have to round up the goats,” Trent announced, after they’d eaten a desultory breakfast. “You up for the task Shane?” He gave a casual shrug. “Sure. Can’t be any harder than sheep, right?”

Mona leaned back on her chair, regarded him with raised eyebrows. “This should be fun. Can I help?”

“No,” Shane responded quickly, and gestured at his belly, casting a sideways glance at Katie.

“I’m not stupid,” Katie replied. “I know she’s preggers. We share a room for Yoba’s sake. And more to the point – we share a bathroom. But hey, since I didn’t get myself knocked up, can I help?”

By ‘help’, Katie actually meant run around with her camera, taking photographs and video of the wily beasts. However, Marnie reflected, running through the forest, splashing through mud puddles and trying to herd goats – which seemed to be cannier bastards than the proverbial cat – was enough to stop any of them dwelling on what the future would bring. The inspectors had rung that morning, and offered her a temporary stay of execution. “We’ve had to reschedule our visit until next Wednesday,” she was informed. “Unless further evidence comes to hand.” Unless Jasper is found.

*

Marlon and Rasmodius came over mid-afternoon, carrying large cardboard boxes, from which strange scratching noises were emanating.

“What’s in the box?” Mona asked, skipping up to them. “Animals warped into monsters by the Void?”

Marlon chuckled. “Actually, you’re not far wrong – these are Roland’s Void chickens. We’re wondering, well, if you might like to integrate them into your flock, Marns?”

“There’s seriously such a thing?” Mona laughed. “I reckon you’re making it up.”

“Mona,” Marlon said with mock seriousness. “I’m offended. Have I ever lied to you?”

“Only every time I ask you about your eye,” she pointed out. “I believe the last time I asked, you told me you’d lost it in a fight against an army of goblins.”

“And you don’t believe me? Oh, Mona.” He gave a long, sad sigh. “Okay, yes, you’re right. So, what do you think Marns? Want some honest-to-goodness Void chickens?”

“Are they dangerous? Do they need their own coop?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. Probably a good idea at first though, just in case. You got a quarantine cage or something?”

“Come with me. We can put them in the outside run.”

They set the boxes down, and helped her herd the resident chickens back into their coop, securing them inside. Then Marlon placed both cartons into the external run, and, his back pressed against, the door – “Just in case!” – he opened the first box. With a flutter of wings, a large black hen sprang out and danced a few steps. A moment later, another followed.

“How many are there?”

“Only four,” Marlon replied, moving onto the second carton. “I think he may have once had more but... well... we didn’t have the opportunity to liberate them until today. So it’s possible they ate each other.”

She studied the four chickens. Their feathers were a deep, matt black, the red of their combs and wattles a striking contrast. With their muscular breasts and long, sturdy legs, there was something almost predatory about the way they stalked about the pen. Marnie was almost willing to believe that Marlon was telling the truth.

“So,” Rasmodius interrupted her thoughts. “I hear you have a bat for me?”

Marnie nodded and fetched it from the freezer, along with Mona’s diligently copied runes. “Do you think we might have found a way to cure the corrupted?”

Rasmodius shrugged. “Further research is required, but I think we can all agree – this now appears to be a perfectly ordinary bat.”

“They’ve got some mutated ones, in the saloon’s meat-locker,” Marnie added. “If you wanted to, I dunno, compare them or something.”

Rasmodius stroked his goatee. “It’s worth a look. Also,” he added grimly, “it seems unlikely my father will return to the Valley. They’ve diagnosed him with early onset dementia – I believe the Void got into his brain.”

“What’s going to happen to the farm?” Marnie asked.

A casual shrug. “I guess we’ll wait and see. No doubt he’s left it to Olly, but Yoba only knows what an accountant’s gonna do with it. Probably sell it and turn it into a JojaMart or something.” He visibly shuddered.

“Couldn’t you take it?” she prompted. “After all, you’re the oldest son.”

“I don’t want it,” Rasmodius replied. “I’m not a farmer, Marn. I’m a wizard, and that place... well... it pretty much belongs to the monsters now.”

*

October 16th 

“They’ve found a body. They think it’s Jasper.” Trent hung up the phone. It was 8 am, and Marnie had just come in with a basket of eggs. His gaze was solemn. “Emma and I are going to... to ID him.”

Emma had arrived early yesterday morning. Shaken, and pale. She’d rejected the offer of the cottage in favor of a room in the saloon. Could barely meet Marnie’s gaze and had, at one point, rasped, her face twisted with grief and wet with tears: “I trusted you to look after him.”

“I failed him,” Marnie whispered. 

“We failed him,” Mona added, clasping her hands. “I couldn’t... I couldn’t hold on.”

Trent returned an hour later, collapsed into a chair at the table and downed a dram of whiskey. “It was him,” he said, letting his head sink onto his folded arms. “Emma’s taking him home tomorrow.”

“When’s the funeral?” Mona asked, her voice strained with grief.

Trent rose his head, drew himself another dram and downed it in a few gulps. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “We’re not invited.”

*

October 17th

The police came, and took Shane away for questioning.

“But he wasn’t even here!” Mona sobbed into Marnie’s arms.

“Ssssh,” she replied. “It’ll be alright.”

He returned a few hours later, pale and haggard, but offered them a shaky smile. “Well, the good news is, they don’t think I killed him. The bad news is...” He took the whiskey out of the cupboard and swigged a mouthful straight from the bottle. 

“Shane,” Marnie scolded him. 

His face twisted into a grimace. “The bad news is... the inspectors are coming tomorrow.” He stared at Marnie, his eyes red-rimmed. “They want to talk to you. I... I think they intend to take Mona away.”

*

October 18th

“You can’t do this!” Marnie insisted. “She’s our daughter!”

“Harmony Jacobson,” the head inspector announced, “you are under two charges of negligence: one resulting in death, the other emotional suffering. Mona Cavanagh is being taken into custody for her own safety. Your hearing date is set for February 12th 2010. It is highly recommended that you do not leave the Stardew region in that time.”

Marnie and Mona wept in each others’ arms.

“You can’t do this,” Mona sobbed. “We chose to run away. Please don’t punish Mom. She’s only ever done what’s best for us. She walked out into that storm to save me. Please!”

Her pleas fell on uncaring ears. They pried her, sobbing and wriggling, from Marnie’s arms and bundled her towards their black van. She struggled furiously, with stomping feet and jabbing elbows. Broke free, and tried to bolt towards the forest, but was grabbed about the waist and hauled into the back of the van.

“You can’t do this!” Marnie ran towards them, desperate to stop them, but Trent’s hand fell on her arm. 

“We’ll get her back,” he said. “Four months. It isn’t that long a time.”

“She’ll be starting to show by then,” Marnie whispered, felt her heart shatter like broken glass.

Katie came out, carrying her bags. “Goodbye Marnie. Goodbye Trent,” she said, her voice calm. “Thanks for looking after me.” Was that sarcasm in her voice? Marnie couldn’t tell. The girl strode towards to the van.

Shane ducked in front of her, a bag over his shoulder, and clambered in before her.

“I’m coming too,” he announced. “You can’t stop me. Well, you could arrest me, or shoot me, I guess. But she’s my sister, and I promised I’d look after her forever.”

A brief argument ensured. But Shane definitely had the higher ground in the argument: “You’re taking her away from the only home she’s ever known – ‘for her own good’,” he said. “And, well, I think you’re agree that, at the very least, she needs me.”

Eventually they relented. “Fine. Just don’t cause any trouble.” One of the inspectors slid the van door shut, and sprang up into the cabin.

Then the black van pulled away, leaving Marnie and Trent on the road outside the ranch.

Alone. 


	35. Winter Star in Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mona is taken into care - strings are pulled for visits over Winter Star.

Letter dated 1st November 2009

Dear Auntie Marnie,

I’m not good at letters, so lets see how this goes.

Mona’s been committed into Elizabeth House. Its a home for unwed, underage mothers so I’m not welcome, except for visiting hours (2-5pm on weekends). It’s not a bad place, but its a bit depressing – old and a bit dank. During the week, Mona’s continuing her schooling, so that’s good. Hopefully she’ll be able to finish her Sophomore year before the baby comes. It’s due in June. Mona still insists its a girl.

They’re also offering her counseling. Which is great, because her roomie told me she keeps having nightmares, wakes her up, screaming stuff about the void and shadows – and a prince?

I’ve found myself a small apartment within walking distance. Its not great, but it has a roof and a bed and I can visit her. We mostly walk around the gardens and talk about the future.

There’s rumors that the babies are sold to rich couples, but the staff all insist its her choice. Along with schooling, they’re teaching the kids how to look after kids: change diapers, first aid, that kinda stuff.

I’m working two jobs. Stack shelves at the local s’market at night, and sell hardware during the day. It ain’t great, but the money’s okay and if I’m gonna have to support Mo and a baby, I’m gonna need it.

I cant believe that they’re charging you with negligence, Auntie. You’re like the kindest, most generous and wonderful person that I’ve ever known – and you’ve been an amazing mother to Mo. Just wish that little rat-ferret hadn’t gone and ruined everything by knocking her up then getting himself killed. May never forgive the little rat-fink. But yeah, I guess I miss him too.

This is gonna sound a bit weird, maybe? But can you get one of those frozen tear stone thingies? Mona keeps asking about it – seems to think that if she could get her hands on one, she could make things good again. 

Anyway, love to you and love to Uncle Trent too.

Miss you both. Will ring when I get credit on my phone.

Yours, Shane.

*

December 25th 

Elizabeth house was an elaborate but aged manor, set among wide, open grounds. Upon entering the ornate gates, Marnie felt like she had stepped back about a hundred years.

“It’s like an asylum,” she said. 

“Well, I guess it kinda is,” Shane commented. “It’s not too bad though – not really.” Marnie wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or convince himself.

Up close, the shabbiness and wear began to show. Heavily-pruned rosebushes framed the path, and weeds struggled through the cracks in the tiles. The windowsills needed a new layer of paint, and the hedges could do with a manicure. 

Shane held the door open for her, and they entered into the gloomy dark.

The reception room had a high ceiling and dark paneling. Tinsel, and a golden star, hung from the rafters, and a decorated tree stood in the corner – but it did little to soften the atmosphere. 

“Good afternoon, Shane!” the pencil-thin receptionist greeted him with a smile. “Always a pleasure to see you.” 

“And you too, Annabelle,” Shane replied.

Annabelle’s eyes narrowed as she took in Marnie. “And who is your companion?” 

“My auntie,” Shane replied.

The receptionist’s jealous frown transformed into a wide smile. “Hello. Pleased to meet you. Mona will be delighted to see you. You’ll be joining us for our Winter Star feast?” She pushed a book and a pen across the desk to them. “Please sign in.” And flashed another shy smile in Shane’s direction.

He remained charmingly oblivious to her tentative flirtation. “Where is she today? In her room?”

“I believe she’s waiting for you in the recreation room,” Annabelle said. “Second floor, follow the signs.”

“I know,” Shane winked at her, and she feigned interest in her papers, in an effort to hide her blush.

“She fancies you,” Marnie couldn’t resist teasing, as they made their way up the wide curve of the staircase.

“Really?” Shane seemed genuinely surprised. “Huh.”

A couple of girls, Mona’s age, or possibly even younger, stood on the landing, their heads close in conversation. They halted, and stared as Shane and Marnie walked past. 

“Hi Shane,” they chorused in unison.

“Genevieve, Samantha,” Shane greeted them with a nod. “This is my Auntie Marnie.”

They giggled. “Hello Shane’s auntie,” the younger one said.

“Happy Winter Star!” the other added.

“Do you know everyone here?” Marnie asked him.

Shane shrugged and shook his head. “Only the ones that want to be known,” he replied.

The atmosphere was faintly gloomy. The walls were dark, ceilings high and shadowed. An attempt at cheeriness had been made, with framed affirmations, water-color paintings, and numerous pot-plants, but nothing could quite disguise the lingering scent of mustiness. 

One of the doors was open, and Marnie glanced into a room that reminded her of the one she’d had, back in Saint Helena’s: narrow twin beds, a desk between them, and a dresser pressed up against the wall. However, unlike St Helena’s, the furniture here was all slightly shabby and mismatched, the paint worn. In another room, a girl in a white nightdress sat cross-legged, rocking back and forth, clutching the swell of her belly and singing a lullaby to her unborn child.

She waved at Shane.

“Hello Sarah!” he called back.

Marnie shook her head, amused at the lad’s popularity.

The recreation room was fairly large, and a grid work of colorfully painted tables and armchairs add a touch of cheerfulness. Another Winter Tree stood in the corner, and art supplies littered one of the tables. At another, a girl intently pondered over a half-made jigsaw puzzle, and another two played a raucous game of pool. A daytime soap played on a television in the corner. Mona rose from a threadbare armchair to greet them. She was wearing a baggy sweater with a unicorn on it, and pink-striped leggings.

“Merry Winter Star,” she said. Her eyes were shadowed, haunted, but the smile she gave them was warm. “I’m so glad that they let you come, Mom.”

“You can thank Mayor Lewis for that,” Marnie replied, engulfing her in a hug. “And how could they deny a mother the chance to visit her child at Winter Star?” She glanced around the room. “How is it here?”

Mona shrugged. “It’s okay. Better then I thought. The staff are really nice, and the food’s decent. Gotta be, since we’re all incubating babies. I’m talking to a shrink once a week. Plus the teachers from the local High drop by to tutor us.” She gave a small smile. “I reckon my grades are better now then they’d ever be at Stardew High, cos there’s nothing much else here to do but learn shit and read. Thank Yoba this place has a decent library. I miss you guys a heap though. And the animals.”

“The hearing’s in February,” she said. “After that, we’ll be able to bring you home.” 

“Home,” Mona whispered. Shivered, and took Marnie’s hands in her. “Mom,” she said. “I know... I know this is gonna hurt – but I’m not sure I can come back to Pelican Town.”

It was like an ice-cold blade to the heart, although Marnie had been half-expecting it. “Oh, Mona,” she whispered.

Mona blinked back tears. “I mean, I love you guys and all that. But... but PT is where he died. And... there’s a darkness there, lurking beneath the whimsical country charm. Shane and I have been talking... we thought, after the baby’s born, well, we,” – a quick glance at Shane; he’d wandered over and was helping the girl with her puzzle – “might get a place here. In Zuzu.”

“You’re going to keep her?”

Mona’s expression was incredulous. “Of course!” She ran her fingers over the gentle curve of her abdomen, where the baby was beginning to make her presence known. “She’s all I have left of him. Of Jasper. We were going to run away,” she continued. “He was so certain that once the authorities found out about her they’d throw him in prison and lock me up, well, here, then sell our baby off to the highest bidder. He’d got us fake IDs, and we were collecting gems from the caves to sell – have you any idea how much treasure there is down there? – then we were gonna jump on a train and head out of the Valley, maybe east, and make a new home for ourselves. And I listened to him... believed him. And now... now he’s dead. And I’m here anyway.” 

Marnie squeezed her again. “Well, my promise to you still stands, and always will. If, no, when, you’re ready to return to the valley – there will always be a place at the ranch for you.”

“I know.” Mona leaned back, dabbed her tears away with her sleeve.

“I brought you a present.” Marnie pressed the tissue wrapped bundle into the girl’s hands.

“Thank you.” Mona unwrapped it, and smiled at the sight of the frozen tear. “This is awesome.” She traced her fingers along it, igniting a tiny spark within its heart. “Marlon found it for you,” Marnie whispered. “Use it well, but please, be careful. And please, don’t forget to eat – remember, the baby needs you to be healthy.”

“I will,” Mona whispered. “Sorry. I haven’t got you a present. Not even a card. They wanted us to make one, as part of our ‘artistic therapy’ but that’s all wellness bullshit. And what am I? Eight? Plus mine looked like crap.”

“It’s okay,” Marnie replied. “Just seeing you, that’s a gift enough for me. You sure you’re doing okay here?”

She nodded. “Yeah. They’ve offered me a place in a local school, next year – it’s an ‘alternative and progressive’ school, with a creche and everything. So I can continue my schooling, if I want to.”

Relief, tempered with sadness. Your little girl’s grown up, Marns. “Sounds like you’ve got things sorted out.”

A shrug. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t the life I chose, but you gotta go with what fate throws at you, right? Hey Shane,” she called. 

He glanced up from the puzzle. “You ladies done catching up?”

“Yeah. So quit flirting with Jess, and we can give Marnie the grand tour.”

“I wasn’t!” Shane’s cheeks pinked.

“The girls all love him,” Mona mock-whispered to Marnie. “Pretty sure he’s one of the only guys who’s stuck around to help with the baby – and he’s not even the father.”

Jess’s grin and blush certainly supported that claim. 

Shane scuffed his feet awkwardly. “Mo,” he mumbled. “Come on, let’s show Auntie your room. Then you can grab a coat, and some shoes and we can go for a walk in the garden?” The smile he gave her was warm and comforting. “I may have smuggled in a bit of a sweet treat for you.”

“Maple bars?” She grinned.

“Maple bars,” he confirmed. “Um, I kinda baked them myself, so they’re a little crispy, but they’re still good.”

They joined the others for a Winter Star feast in the dining hall. There were about a dozen girls all together, and only a few had brought ‘guests’. She made light conversation with them, discovered that some – like Mona – were orphans, surrendered into state care. Others, like Sarah, had been homeless, living on the streets with her boyfriend. He sat next to her, looking thin and nervous. 

“I don’t want to give her up,” Sarah said. “But the streets ain’t no way of life for a babe.”

Genevieve had been sent by her parents: “To hide my shame from our town. They told the neighbors I’d been accepted into a fancy boarding school. Told me they’d disown me if I came home with the baby.”

The food was good, the atmosphere warm, and, when Marnie left, she felt a weird mix of relief and grief. Relieved, that Mona seemed more-or-less happy, that she and her baby would receive support and education. But she grieved, too, because her little bird had grown up and flown the nest far too soon. 

*

February 2010

The date of the hearing came. Trenton pleaded their side, with charismatic passion that had half the jury dabbing at their eyes. Marnie spent most of it in tears, knowing that whether she was found guilty of negligence or not, the outcome would be the same.

Jasper’s death was ruled a terrible, tragic accident, caused by teenage recklessness. She was found guilty of negligence in her duty as a caregiver, for abandoning Katie, but even then the sentence was fairly light: community service, and a contribution towards the girl’s psychology sessions.

She was removed from the Ferngill Foster Register.

And Mona was free to return to the ranch.

“I’d prefer to stay here, if that’s alright?” Mona suggested tentatively, as though she were afraid Marnie would drag her back, kicking and screaming.

“That’s fine, pet.” Marnie swallowed back the anguish in her voice. “I’ll visit you, as often as I can.”


	36. Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sad

Letter dated June 10th 2010

“Dear Auntie Marnie

Mona’s baby was born on June 4th, and came, screaming into the world at 6am, weighing in at 6.1 pounds. Which the nurse said was kinda small, but she seems healthy – and certainly has a good pair of lungs on her. Her names Jasmine, in memory of her dad.

The two of them are gonna stay at Elizabeth House for another six weeks or so, but Mona’s already a great mother, and I’m super-proud of her. I’ve found us a better apartment – its small, but not a dive and in a better neighborhood, plus close to the school. Thanks for the money – it helped us get a super-nice crib. 

Anyway, sending our love – and a couple of photographs. 

Yours, Shane.”

*

Days turned into weeks, turned into months. It was a two-hour bus trip to reach their apartment in Zuzu, but Marnie made it diligently every second weekend. She played with the baby – amazed at how quickly she grew – and let Mona reassure her that everything was okay. That she was receiving tons of support and Shane was the best godfather ever and that they were all doing just fine.

Wasn’t sure how much of it she believed.

Then Trent became ill.

It started with him coming home exhausted, struggling into his chair and falling asleep before dinner. At first, Marnie just put it down to his increased workload – there were a lot more injured animals being found out in the pastures. It was when he began picking at his food, and noticed his glands were swollen, that she sent him to the doctor.

He was diagnosed with an infection, and came home with medication.

When that had no noticeable effect, he was sent back and a biopsy taken.

“I’m afraid our tests indicate you have lymphoma. It’s a form of cancer – but luckily very treatable if, as I believe we have, it is caught in the early stages.”

The next six months were lost to a nightmare of tests, then to chemotherapy and radiation therapy, and Marnie’s communication with the Cavanagh’s was restricted to letters and phone calls as, with a compromised immune system, Trent had to avoid infection.

She could sense that something was troubling Shane, a quiver in his voice when they talked on the phone. 

“We’re fine,” he assured her. “I’m just worried about Trent – and you too.”

But Marnie wasn’t so sure.

“Jasmine’s doing great,” he said, and she could hear the pride in his voice. “She’s already started trying to sit up by herself – although she falls over pretty quickly.” “How’s Mona?” she asked, and he went quiet.

“She’s okay. Tired, a lot of the time but, well, she’s studying hard and Jas doesn’t seem to like sleeping through the night.”

That felt like half-truths to Marnie, but she didn’t push the issue. 

“How’s Trent?”

“He’s reacting well to the treatment,” she replied. “But he exhausts quickly, and we have to be very careful that he doesn’t get sick.” The town had rallied around her, Marlon and Rasmodius lent a hand where they could (although Rasmodius kept trying to take magical short-cuts, sometimes with unexpected results), and Sam, Abby and even Alex came out to help. Alex proved very sympathetic, having recently lost his own mother to cancer.

“It’s hard to see them so weak,” he said.

“The Mayor sent me here for community service,” Sam informed her. “After the stunt at the luau. But I don’t mind helping out. I’d rather muck out sheep pens than clean the public toilets any day.”

*

Then, on May 30th, 2011, when they sat down to a ‘we’ve successfully defeated the cancer’ celebratory dinner at the saloon, Marnie’s phone rang.

“Hi Shane,” she answered it. “I’m glad you called. I’ll be coming to visit this weekend. Trent’s finally been given the all clear – he’s officially in remis–” Faltered, when she realized he was sobbing. “Auntie,” he croaked.

“What’s wrong? Is Jasmine okay?” She’d just started trying to walk last time they’d spoken. What if she’d hurt herself?

“It’s Mona,” she had to strain to hear his voice, it was so hoarse with grief. “There’s been a terrible accident. She... she’s dead.”


	37. Final Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A funeral, a baby, and a new beginning clouded in sorrow.

“Mona finally came home,” Marnie sobbed into her husband’s arms.

Abigail, standing at the door to the shrine, handed them each a rose. The tips of the petals dyed black.

Marnie clutched Trent’s hand and choked back her tears, let him guide her along the aisle. The melancholic piano of ‘My Immortal’ filled the air, with the heart-wrenching vocals of Amy Lee. Mona had chosen the songs. She’d planned everything. Made notes in the back of her diary. She’d known for months that she’d intended to die. Why hadn’t Marnie seen it? Heard it in their phone conversations? Had she been so caught up in Trent’s sickness she’d overlooked her daughter’s grief?

Shane nodded in greeting. His eyes were haunted, bright with grief. Jasmine sat in his lap, wearing an adorable little black dress, trimmed with white lace, and pink bows in her hair.

“Mona bought the dress for her a month ago,” he said. “I thought she wanted her daughter to look all goth and edgy. Now... now I wonder if she wasn’t thinking ahead.” Jasmine studied Marnie with her large blue eyes, forehead furrowed.

“She looks like her mom,” Marnie whispered, seating herself beside him. Took his hand in hers. He looked faintly awkward in suit and tie, and she resisted the desire to fix the loose knot at his throat.

He nodded. 

Trent seated himself on her other side. Pale and tired, his suit hung off his once-muscular frame, and his hair had only just begun to grow back, red and spiky across his scalp. He clasped Marnie’s other hand in his.

She cast her glance around the room. It felt most of the town had entered after them, and taken their seats solemnly. Not that there were many people left – Pelican Town really had become a ghost town. Marlon and Rasmodius stood near the back. Marlon caught Marnie’s eye and offered her a small, sympathetic smile and a slight nod. Rasmodius’s face was drawn, expression distraught.

He’d never publicly acknowledged Mona as his daughter, and now he never would. She was the third child he’d lost.

No wonder he believed his bloodline was cursed. 

The strains of the ballad fell away, and Mayor Lewis stepped up to officiate the ceremony. He offered his condolences, and spoke of how Mona had been embraced and welcomed into Yoba’s light, then invited Marnie up to say a few words.

A final squeeze of the men’s hands, a dab at her eyes with her handkerchief, and she stepped up to deliver her speech.

“Mona may not have been the daughter of my womb,” she began, “but she was truly the daughter of my heart...” She stumbled once or twice, almost dissolved into tears. Shane handed the baby to Trent, and came up to join her. His hand on her shoulder helped center her.

A glance at Rasmodius; he was wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his wizardly dress robes. Marlon’s hand clasped on his shoulder.

Shane guided Marnie back to her seat, before beginning his own speech. She claimed Jasmine back from Trent, who held her awkwardly, as though she might explode. The wee lass was surprisingly well behaved, even when Marnie sobbed into her hair. Shane presented himself well, looking very handsome in suit and tie, stumbled only slightly with nerves, and interjecting a few humorous anecdotes, because, “... Mona was a wicked lass, with a wicked sense of humor. There’s a part of me that’s still wondering, if this is all some complicated practical joke... That she isn’t going to march into the hallway now, and laugh at us all for believing that she’s gone.” He wiped his hand across his eyes. “But, I know she is... that I’ll never hear her voice... her laugh...ever again.” He gave a choking sob, whispered, “Mona, I miss you.” 

He thrust the microphone back in the Mayor's hands, and half staggered back to his chair. Trent clapped him on the back, and Marnie squeezed his shoulders.

"I just can't believe she's gone," he whispered, echoing the thought in all of their minds.

“Would anyone else like to say a few words?” Mayor Lewis asked.

“Please.” Abigail stood. Marnie’s heart gave a small, pleased leap of surprise as the teenager made her way down the aisle. Her black dress looked almost like an adult version of Jasmine’s, with white lace trim, long enough to brush the tops of her Doc Martens. She added, “If I may?”

Lewis nodded, and handed her the microphone.

“Mona and I first met when we were little kids,” Abigail started. “My parents had always warned me against playing with the ranch kids – I’m not sure why – but of course, that just added to their allure. We totally rocked our first egg festival hunt, and from then on, I practically lived at her house. She and I would hang out in the woods, build huts out of branches, and pretend that we were early settlers, fighting off bears and wolves. I never had any siblings, but Mona was both like a sister and my best friend.”

Marnie choked back a sob. If only she’d known the truth. But would it have changed anything?

“And poor Shane. We must’ve been the bane of his existence.” She nodded in his direction. “He took his position as big brother so very, very seriously, and oh – how hard it must’ve been to keep us out of mischief. Like that time we snuck into Mister Roland’s coop and switched all his chicken eggs with ones we’d dyed purple.”

Shane managed a tentative smile. Jasmine began to grow restless, and started tugging on his tie.

“Then there was the time we stole a piece of underwear off every washing line, and hid them randomly around town. That caused a few interesting domestic discussions, I’m sure!” She paused, waiting for the nervous chuckles to die away. “Anyway,” Abigail concluded, “Mona – you and I may have grown up and drifted into our own lives, but that doesn’t change the fact that you were the best friend I ever had and... and the best sister I never had.”

Behind her, Marnie heard Caroline give a choking sob. Perhaps regretting a past filled with lies?

Abigail stepped down, to squeeze Marnie’s hand and gave Jasmine a small wave. The girl released the tie – now covered in spittle – and grabbed Abigail’s finger.

“You’ve got quite a legacy to live up to, kiddo,” Abigail whispered, pried her fingers free, kissed them, and pressed the kiss against Jasmine’s forehead. “Give the world hell.” Then she glided back to her seat. 

Another maudlin piano song began, and Shane handed Jasmine one of the black-tipped roses and carried her up to the coffin. It looked so small, like Mona had diminished in death. A brief wrestling match ensured, as Shane tried to encourage the one-year old to place the rose on the coffin, but she would rather put it in her mouth. She grizzled a little when he pried it from her fingers, then grabbed his tie again instead. Marnie and Trent followed, placing their own roses with care, and the three of them stood to one side. In pairs or singly, the villagers came forward, to offer their condolences. 

When Abigail came to them, Trent leaned down and whispered something in her ear. She stared at him eyes bright with tears. “Really?” she whispered.

Trent nodded. “I’d be honored.” Added, to answer Marnie’s curious gaze, “I offered her my place, as a pall-bearer. I’m still weak, and well... she deserves it.”

“Thank you,” Marnie whispered, and squeezed his hand.

Shane handed Jasmine to Jodi, and kissed his god-daughter on the forehead. “See you soon, petal,” he whispered. Jodi carried her outside. She had a child of her own, a newborn son. Perhaps one day, he and Jasmine could be friends. They were, currently, the only babies in the village. 

Marlon and Rasmodius were the last to pay their respects. The wizard looked wretched with grief. Marlon hugged Marnie, and shook Trent’s hand. He couldn’t hide the flicker of surprise in his eye, when he realized how thin Trent was.

The hug Rasmodius gave Marnie was so heavy with grief – she could feel it shivering through him – that she blinked back further tears. Both men had loved Mona as if she were their own daughter: Marlon, because he had no children of his own, and Rasmodius because she, of course, was.

The pall-bearers took their positions: Marnie and Shane at Mona’s feet, with Abigail behind Shane, and Lewis behind Marnie. Rasmodius and Marlon at Mona’s head. Trent walked ahead, guiding them. 

It was a a fairly short walk, across the square and down the slope to Pelican Town’s tiny new graveyard. The older, original one, lay east of the mining villager – now beyond the cordon. The villagers fell in behind, a solemn, silent procession.

The casket was placed in the contraption above the grave, and gently lowered in.

“Goodbye Mona,” Marnie whispered. She stepped back, as the villagers came forward, tossing their own roses into the grave.

Then it was over. Mona was laid to rest.

*

“I don’t understand,” Abigail whispered. She sat in the grass, playing peek-a-boo with Jasmine, and making the girl giggle. “Jasmine’s adorable – how could she leave her behind?” 

Shane had told Marnie it was an accident, a terrible, tragic accident that had sent her stumbling in front of the train. But Marnie had seen through that lie, to the truth he didn’t dare admit, to her – perhaps even to himself.

“She’d been depressed for a long time,” he’d said. “Since Jas was maybe four months old. But... she was talking to the shrink every week and... I thought I was doing... everything I could. But it wasn’t enough...”

Seeing the grown man she’d raised from a child, break down into tears damn near broke her heart.

“You were the best brother ever, Shane,” she sobbed into his arms. “And you’re an amazing godfather. Little Jas is flourishing.”

“She keeps asking for ‘mama’,” he said. “And I don’t know what to tell her. If she’ll ever understand that her mom isn’t ever coming home.”

Guilt crashed in, that she hadn’t been there, when Mona had needed her. Anger, that her daughter had been taken from her, that the state-provided psychologist hadn’t been able to save her. Sorrow, that Shane had borne the burden alone, too selfless to add another weight to her shoulders.

“We can’t change what’s happened,” she said pragmatically. “What we need to focus on now is giving Jasmine the best life that we can. You are coming back here? To stay?”

His smile was small, shaky. “For a bit, yes. At least until... until I find my feet. I can help on the ranch. I promise we won’t be a burden.”

“Oh Shane.” He bore Marnie’s embrace with grim stoicism. “You’re never a burden and yes, we could definitely use some help around the place.” 

*

Summer 2011

The next day was Jasmine’s first birthday.

“It’s so very sad,” Marnie confided in Trent, “that Mona took her own life so close to her daughter’s first birthday. It’ll be forever shadowed in sorrow.”

Trent held her close and stroked her hair. “I know,” he whispered. “But we need to make things bright, for her.”

Grief had drained them too much to organize a party, and Jasmine hadn’t really understood what was going on. But Marlon and Abigail dropped by around mid morning.

“Hey Jazzy!” Abigail pulled a face at the girl, then tickled her until she giggled. “It’s your first birthday, baby.” She drew a badly wrapped present out of her shoulder-bag, and set it before Jasmine. 

The little girl regarded it for a long moment, then began plucking at the paper. “Ga-ba?” she asked.

“No,” Abigail replied. “Ab-e-gale.”

“Ab-ga?” 

“Close enough. Here, let me help you with that?” Together they unwrapped a book and a plush toy bat.

Jasmine immediately grabbed the bat, and started chewing on its ear.

Marlon presented her with a foam sword. 

“Really?” Marnie looked at him, incredulous. “She’s only one!”

He shrugged. “It’s never too early to start. She can practice on the bat.”

“Where’s Shane?” Abigail asked.

“He’s with the chickens,” Marnie replied. She’d walked into the coop earlier that morning, found him with several on his lap, pecking grain from his hand. His face wet with tears. She’d walked over, say on the hay bale beside him, and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I just don’t get why she did it,” he whispered, running his hands though his hair, like he always did when he was stressed. “I mean, I thought everything was going okay...”

“Will he see me?” Abigail asked.

“I don’t know,” Marnie replied. “You can try.”

She left, but came back five minutes later.

“He told me to leave him the hell alone,” she whispered.

“He’s grieving,” Marnie replied. “Don’t take it to heart.”

Abigail nodded, trying to hide the tears in her eyes. She turned her attention back to Jasmine. “Jazzy, would you like to hear a story?”

*

Rasmodius dropped by late in the evening, after everyone else had gone home. 

“She’s asleep,” Marnie told him. “I think all the attention tuckered her out.”

“That’s okay,” he replied. “I just wanted to drop by, give her a birthday gift.” He glanced over Marnie’s shoulder. “Trent home?”

“He’s out in the barn with Shane. Technically milking the goats, but I’m hoping Trent’ll help stabilize the lad, help him through his grief. Would you like a hot drink, while you’re here?”

Rasmodius nodded. “Please.” She put the kettle on the stove and sat opposite him. 

“How are you coping?” she asked.

“Fucking miserably,” he replied. “Keep thinking about what I could have done to stop it... how I should never have let her leave town.”

"Me too,” Marnie whispered. “But who’s to say it would’ve been any better if she’d stayed? They gave her everything: education, support. Shit, even a psychiatrist. And that didn’t save her.”

“There’s something I never told you,” Rasmodius said, voice serious. He clasped his hands together and bowed his head. “About Lily. Before she left... well, we had a fight. A massive fight. She said that if she couldn’t have my child, then no-one else would either.” He looked up, eyes bright with pain. “She’d been reading my notes, Marn. All those months in her chamber, flitting around like she’d lost her mind... but she was reading my notes. She took my inkwell, Marnie – and some of my books. There’s no telling what she can do. And I’m fairly certain she cursed me.”

It was such a ridiculous notion that Marnie almost laughed, managed to choke it back though, because his face was pale and deathly serious.

“I know it sounds stupid. And I didn’t think anything else of it at the time, but then, we lost Benjamin and now... now we’ve lost Mona.”

“But Abigail’s fine,” Marnie pointed out. 

“I thought about that,” he said. “But she’s half-Werner, that could help. Also... I haven’t interfered in her life.” He reached across the table, took Marnie’s hands in his. “I know you’re going to want me to be a part of Jasmine’s life. But I can’t risk it.”

“But you’re her grandfather,” Marnie pleaded with him. “She deserves to know you!”

He shrugged. “Trent will be a better grandfather than I ever could. Or you could ask Marlon. I’m sure he’d love the position.”

He took a package from his pocket and laid it on the table. “Please, give this to her. And well, if you ever need me, I’ll be in my tower.” He leaned over the table and kissed her on the forehead. “You were my first love, Marn. And I’m sorry that my stupidity ruined your life.”

He slid the chair back, and walked from the room. A hunched, haunted figure. Her heart ached – and, in truth, a little shocked – at the revelation. It felt like they were breaking up all over again, except that this time it was their friendship that had been severed, and there could be no reconciliation.

“Wait,” she wanted to call after him. “Stop.” But wasn’t sure whether there was anything she could say or do to change his mind. 

Instead, she rang Marlon.

“Please,” she said. “Keep an eye on him. I’m really, really worried that he might do something stupid.”

*

Autumn 2011

The next few weeks passed with the dull flatness of purgatory. The world felt so empty, like without Mona’s cheerful laughter, or terrible, off-key singing, that she’d left behind a hole.

A void.

Without Jasmine, Marnie wasn’t sure any of them would have survived. But a baby needed care – a lot of care – and the act of feeding her; cleaning up after feeding her (“She’s got a great throwing arm,” Trent remarked. “Maybe she’ll play baseball one day.”); changing her diaper – which Shane did skillfully, and Marnie made a shameless fumble of; bathing her (somehow, Marnie ended up wetter than Jasmine); and generally just keeping her entertained, was enough to draw any of them out of their grief. 

It was hilarious too, Marnie thought, how she was being taught how to care for a baby by a man young enough (just) to be her son.

“Mama?” Jasmine asked occasionally.

“Mama’s gone,” Shane told her, tickling her. “She’s not coming back. But you have Mar-na now. And Poppa.”

Marnie had resisted being called ‘Nana’ or ‘Grandma.’ “They make me sound so old,” she said. “I’m not even forty.”

After a few days of looking – and Jasmine was remarkably mobile, even though she still hadn’t quite mastered walking for more than a few steps without clinging to the furniture – she appeared to have come to the conclusion that Mama wasn’t playing an extremely long-lasting game of hide and seek, and stopped looking. A few months later, and she’d stopped even asking. It probably helped that she was getting a lot of attention.

At night, Marnie settled her into her crib, beneath the mobile Rasmodius had gifted her. It was the one that had hung in his own nursery: a beautiful multi-pointed sun, beneath which radiated a solar system of bejeweled planets. 

It was beautiful, and Jasmine was enchanted by it – and she, in turn, enchanted everyone.


	38. Fragments from 2012 - 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cinders Ranch family deal with their grief, Jasmine grows up, and there's more hope and sorrow.

2012

Time passed. Jasmine moved from walking to climbing and before they knew it, she was running. She danced to Marnie’s mix-tapes and ‘helped’ collect the eggs. (Shane gathered them up early each morning, and replaced them with painted ping-pong balls, before taking Jasmine out to visit the chickens after breakfast). 

Marlon tried to teach her how to use the sword, but Marnie intervened. “Not until she’s five!” 

Abigail dropped by after school to read Jasmine stories – and told her a few of her own. Jasmine was a fairly quiet child, but she would babble away with Abigail, who seemed to understand her better than anyone else. 

While Abigail visited, Shane slunk into his room, and listen to angry rock music. 

“It’s like he’s trying to pretend I don’t exist,” she confided in Marnie. “And I don’t understand why.” 

“She’s annoying,” Shane had responded, when Marnie called him on it, privately. “Like she’s trying to be Jas’s mother or something. But she’ll never replace Mona.” 

* 

Summer 2014 

Jasmine turned four, but Marnie couldn’t bear the thought of sending this tiny, reserved child to Grampleton everyday for school, and approached the librarian, Gunther, to ask for advice on home-schooling. 

“Excuse me?” a tentative voice at her shoulder inquired. The redhead lass, Penny, who’d moved into town with her mother about the same time Abigail was born. “Do you need a teacher? I’d be happy to help.” 

Marnie was taken aback. “Are you qualified?” 

“Not exactly,” Penny replied, blushing. “I can’t afford to go to college, but I’ve been taking classes by correspondence. Plus I love kids. I’d like to have my own one day,” she added, a little wistfully. 

“You’re welcome to use the library, and all its resources,” Gunther added. 

“I’d use the proper curriculum and everything,” Penny reassured her nervously. “It would be exactly how you’d be teaching her yourself, and it frees you up to do important ranch work.” 

Marnie discussed it with Trent, and with Shane – although the latter was becoming increasingly distant – and they’d agreed. 

The house felt empty with Jasmine gone during the day, and Shane off in the evenings playing gridball. Trent had never fully recovered from his illness, and still tired easily. He also came down with whooping cough, and the cough continued to linger. 

“You should go to the doctor,” Marnie insisted, worry weighing heavy on her heart. 

“I’m fine,” Trent insisted. “Besides, I’m too busy to go to Grampleton.” The local doctor had retired six months ago, and the clinic currently lay untenanted. 

* 

Autumn 2015 

Marlon dropped by frequently to lend a hand around the farm, and Lewis sent anyone sentenced to ‘community service’ her way – which was mostly Sam and, every so often, Sebastian. They sold most of the sheep, but kept the goats, and collected a random miscellany of deformed, disabled, or unloved animals. 

Jasmine loved every animal she met. She named all the chickens, and knew each one on sight, something even Marnie struggled with. The four massive black hens (now Midnight, Shadow, Ebony and Onyx – Jasmine had found a thesaurus in the library, and charmed Trent into helping her read it) had integrated well with the rest of their flock – and when a stoat wormed its way into the coop one evening, had proven to be stalwart defenders. All Marnie had found of it was the tail and a few clumps of fur. 

“See,” she said to Marlon. “Even animals corrupted by the Void aren’t actually monsters.” 

“Try telling the stoat that,” he remarked wryly. 

“We’re a rescue farm,” Jasmine informed Marlon seriously, during one of his infrequent visits. “We rescue the animals what need help, and we got a new animal today. Her name’s Buttercup and she’s my new favorite.” (Every new animal instantly became Jasmine’s favorite). “You’ll love her – she’s only got one eye, like you.” 

She took his hand, and guided him over to meet Buttercup. 

“Oh, right,” he said. “She is a big beauty, isn’t she?” As the massive highland cow lumbered over to investigate. 

“She loves carrots,” Jasmine told him, feeding her one. “And her hair’s so long and woolly, we have to cut it back, so she can see.” She studied him her face serious. “Poppa said she cut her eye on a fence. Is that how you hurt your eye?” 

She asked him a similar question every time he visited, and he never gave the same answer twice. 

“A giant bird plucked it out,” he informed her, his face serious. “Then she carried it away and fed it to her babies. So, sometimes, when I close my eye, I can see what the bird sees.” 

“Really?” Jasmine scowled at him. “I think you’re fibbing. If a bird really ate your eye, you’d only see the inside of its tummy.” 

* 

Spring 2016 

Jasmine came running inside, carrying a little blue-feathered bird. “It’s hurt,” she said, presenting it to Trent. “It can’t fly. Can you fix it? Make it better?” Trent took it from her, cradled it in his hands, and set it on the table. It hopped a few steps, then crouched in the shadow of the cereal box, looking frightened. “It’s a blue jay,” he said. “And it’s not hurt, it’s just a baby – he hasn’t quite found his wings yet.” 

“Oh,” Jasmine said. “Can you help him? Find them, I mean?” 

Trent shook his head. “He has to learn to fly in his own time. So, do you know what we need to do?” 

“Na-uh.” Jasmine shook her head. 

“We need to take him back out, to right where you found him, because his mother and his father will be very worried about him. And then we have to put him somewhere safe, so that big ginger cat doesn’t eat him.” 

“Penny said,” Jasmine replied, biting her lip, “that if we touch a baby bird, then we make the bird smell like us, and then its parents won’t take it back. Is that true? Have I done a bad thing?” Her lip quivered and she looked like she might cry. 

“No love.” Trent hugged her, and pressed a kiss into the crown of her head. “Birds don’t have a very good sense of smell – and they will always answer the call of a frightened baby. Always.” 

Marnie had watched them take the little bird back outside, into the back garden; the mother bird fluttered in the bushes, shrieking her concern. Trent helped Jasmine perch him on one of the branches of Benjamin's tree. Not long after they’d backed slowly away, he began to peep madly. His mother flew straight to him. 

The next day, he was flapping around their bird-feeder with the other visitors, begging his parents for food. 

“He found his wings,” Jasmine declared with a smile. 

* 

Summer 2016 

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” Shane informed them seriously over lunch one day, while Jasmine was off at ‘school’. “And I’ve decided to go back to college. I could play gridball again and, maybe, well, I thought I might study how people’s heads work.” 

“Psychology?” Marnie felt her heart leap. “Oh Shane, I’m so proud of you.” She sprang up and hugged him, which made him blush. 

“Maybe, if I’d known sooner,” he said. “If I’d known what to look for, well, maybe I could’ve saved Mona. And Jas is six now – she doesn’t need me anymore. She’s got you guys, and Penny.” 

“Shane,” Marnie said seriously, lifting his chin with her fingers, so their eyes met, “Jas will always need you. Whether she’s two, or six, or twenty. But, yes, we shall be fine, if you wish to spread your wings and follow your own path.” 

* 

January 2017 

Trent came home early from work and collapsed into his favorite armchair. 

“Are you okay, Poppa?” Jasmine asked, scrambling up to snuggle in beside him. The girl was frighteningly perceptive. She pressed her hand against his forehead. “Oh, you’re burning up!” 

“I’m fine,” he gasped, and was overcome by a mighty coughing fit. 

Marnie sprang from her armchair, casting aside the latest issue of ‘Farm & Ranch Life’, and ran to fetch him a glass of water. His cheeks were flushed – probably from the coughing – but despite Jasmine’s declaration, he didn’t appear to be running a fever. However... 

“Your neck feels swollen,” she said, and her heart plummeted. Probably just an infection, she tried to console herself. His remission had lasted seven years. It was unlikely to return, right? 

Wrong. 

The new doctor – “call me Harvey” – had started only a month or so earlier. He was very young, obviously fresh out of med school, with a bushy mustache that looked, disturbingly, like two caterpillars mating on his upper lip. She found it entirely too distracting – probably because she didn’t really want to hear his verdict.

“The results of your biopsy have come in,” he informed them on their second visit. “I’m afraid the lymphoma has recurred.” 

“What’s the prognosis?” Trent asked, all practicalities. 

Harvey looked a bit flummoxed, perhaps expecting a more emotional response. “We shall not know how far advanced it is until we’ve run the CT scans. It’s very treatable.” 

Trent nodded. “I know. Been there, done that, doc. Didn’t like it the first time, and expect I’ll enjoy it even less the second. When can I start the chemotherapy?” 

The results from the CT came back a few days later, and the answer: as soon as possible. 

“It’s become fairly advanced, I’m afraid,” Doctor Harvey’s expression was grave. “And progressed into your lungs. However,” he added. “The prognosis is still fairly favorable.” 

And so began, once more, the horror show that was cancer. Weekly trips into Grampleton for further scans, chemotherapy and radiation. Transport was a nightmare – Marnie had finally learned to drive, but the hill road made her nervous – but Mayor Lewis stepped in to lend a hand. 

“I have weekly meetings in Grampletown anyway,” he informed her. “Might as well kill two birds with the one stone.” 

That phrase always made Marnie wince. “Thank you,” she replied. “You’ve been so generous since...” since Mona was taken from us. 

He clasped her hand in both of his, squeezed it tight. “Always happy to lend a hand to my favorite rancher,” he said, flashing a charming smile. 

Thank Yoba for community support, she thought, feeling very, very grateful for Penny, who was happy to walk Jasmine home and keep her company until they arrived. 

“In truth, our trailer can be a bit depressing,” she admitted. “Mom isn’t the tidiest person.” 

Marnie had visited their trailer once, and decided that Penny was the Queen of Tact. 

“Today we learned about the birds of Stardew Valley!” Jasmine announced, scrambling onto the chair next to Trent. His hair had started to fall out, so Marnie had shaved his scalp. It was the lack of energy that affected him the worst though. 

“Really?” he said, coughing. “What ones did you learn about?” 

“Well,” Jasmine began. “Did you know, there used to be pelicans in Pelican Town? And that’s how it got its name. Because, when they were digging out the quarry, they found a really, really humungous skeleton of a pelican. Like a pelican-dinosaur. It even had a serrated edge on its beak, so it looked like it had teeth.” She waved a piece of paper at him. “I drawed it!” 

“Drew it,” he corrected, his voice strained with fatigue. 

“Drew it,” she repeated. “Only, it actually probably wasn’t really an actual pelican, and its science name is... Pela-gorn-it-thigh-day. Or something like that.” 

“It’s a very nice picture,” he said, then slumped back into the cushions. 

“Poppa is very tired,” Jasmine declared. She kissed him on the forehead. “Sweet dreams.” 

Even in sleep, his breathing sounded raw and pained. And he often woke himself up coughing. Marnie hated it, felt so hopeless. 

*

Marnie stared up at the tower, her heart fluttering in her throat. It had been seven years – give or take – since she’d last been here. But hadn’t he said: ‘if you ever need me’?   
She took a deep breath and rapped on the door. 

It swung open. Rasmodius stood before her. The last few years weighed heavy on him, his goatee had bushed into a beard, and between his eyebrows and his mustache, she could make out little more than his piercing dark eyes with their devilish hint of blue. 

“Marnie!” His mustache twitched with his smile, and he opened his arms for her tearful embrace. “How’s young Jasmine?” 

“She’s doing great,” Marnie replied. “Bright, clever – so very Mona – our ray of sunshine on a dark day.” 

“I’m glad,” he said. “She’s been enjoying my presents?” Every year on Jasmine’s birthday, they’d found a mysterious gift on the doorstep. Marnie had known immediately who they were from – Jasmine had yet to figure it out. 

“Oh yes,” she replied. “She loves them. She calls you her ‘fairy godmother’. But please, not another like that terrible wind-up monkey. That thing still gives me nightmares.”

His laughter warmed her. “Duly noted,” he said. “Godmother, eh? Well, better than the truth, I suppose. But you did not come here for pleasure, did you Marnie? You came here because you have something to ask of me?” 

“Yes,” she admitted. “It’s Trent. He’s not responding well to the treatment...” She wiped her hand across her eyes. “I feel like I’m watching him die. I hate to ask this... but is there anything you can do to help him?” 

He shook his head sadly. “I wish I could,” he said. “But, against cancer, science is a more powerful weapon than magic. At best, I can concoct you some potions, help ease the symptoms?” He gestured her in. 

“Please.” While he rummaged through his pantry, collecting ingredients, she wandered around his room. 

“Keep out on the pentagram,” he cautioned. “And don’t drink from the cauldron.” 

Marnie glanced at the great bubbling pot, from which emanated a smell not unlike old socks boiled in vinegar. 

“Oh, there’s no risk of that.” 

A void bat, eyes gleaming red, bashed itself against the bars of a bird cage. She shivered. Remembered, “I don’t suppose those runes worked? The ones to restore the taint of the Void?” 

“No.” He laid an array of jars on the table and began measuring powders together. “I’ve been unable to replicate it. There must have been something special about Mona’s blood. From her mother, perhaps? But, I guess we’ll never know.” He sighed. “Another dead end.” He cocked his head on the side, and studied her. “There’s something you never told me, isn’t there Marn?” 

“Yes,” she admitted. That terrible, violent night still infected her dreams. She held up her hand to show him the faint white scar, from the golem-puppet’s claws. “I was wounded that day too. You don’t think? No, it’s ridiculous.” 

Rasmodius’s furry dark eyebrows rose. “What’s ridiculous?” 

“My blood wouldn’t make a difference. Would it? I mean, there’s nothing special about me.” 

Rasmodius barked a laugh. “Nothing special about you?” He shook his head. “Fuck Marn, do you really still believe that?” He thrust down his jars and marched towards her. His hands closed about her wrist, eyes studying the scratches. “Would you, perhaps, be willing to donate some blood to my experiment? I wouldn’t need much – maybe a teaspoon or two.” 

A shiver of panic, and also something else, dammit, the sexy spice of him still stirred something – a need that had fallen dormant the day Trent became ill – inside her. “Well, okay,” she whispered, was shocked at how breathless she sounded. “If you think it might make a difference. Do you need me to cut myself?” “Hell no!” He stepped back, and she felt herself relax. 

Returning to his pantry, he lifted out a first aid box and drew out a sterile packet. “I’ll just take a small sample.” 

She winced when the needle pricked into her skin. 

“Thank you.” He capped the vial and pressed a wad of cotton against the tiny pinprick hole. “Who knows, Marn, your blood might make all the difference.”


	39. When the Sun Comes Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Middle of the night phone calls never mean good news...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who have read "Broken" and noticed Shane eluded to an event but never gave any details, well, here it is.

May 31st 2017

The phone trilled loudly in the dark. Phone calls at 3am were never good news. Marnie rolled out of bed. She hoped that the phone wouldn’t disturb Trent. He now slept in Shane’s old room; she didn’t want to risk sharing a bed with him anymore – he bruised and bled too easily. 

She padded barefoot across the kitchen, bumping into one of the kitchen chairs before she finally grabbed the receiver.

This had better not be an urgent vet call-out. Surely everyone knew how sick Trent was? 

“Hello?” she croaked into the phone.

“Hello,” a stern, no-nonsense voice replied. “Is this Marnie Jacobson?”

“Yes? Has something happened to Shane?” Her heart raced so hard in her throat she thought she might choke on it. Has he been arrested? Is he dead?

“This is the Zuzu East Public Hospital. You’re listed as an emergency contact for one Shane Cavanagh.”

“Yes,” through gritted teeth. “What’s happened to him?”

“He was admitted at 10 pm.”

“Holy Yoba,” Marnie breathed. Felt a crushing sense of deja-vu. “He’s... he’s alive?” Wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. Not Shane too!

Was everyone she loved going to be taken from her?

“His condition is stable,” the voice continued. “And he is expected to recover. I’m not permitted to give further information. However, due to the nature of his admittance, we feel someone should be with him when he wakes. What is your relationship with the patient?”

“He’s my son,” she said. “Adopted.” A horrible thought crossed her mind. “What day is it?”

“Wednesday?” the voice sounded confused.

“No. I mean the date!” She was shocked at how desperate she sounded.

“The 31st May.”

“Fuck.” She’d forgotten! How could she forget? Of course, it was easy to lose track of time in the country, when every day was a work day, and especially when Trent was so sick. But... “Shit.”

“Excuse me, ma’am? Are you alright?”

Poor Shane, all alone – forgotten and ignored on the sixth anniversary of his sister’s death. 

“If he wakes up before I get there. Please, tell him I’m sorry, so very, very sorry, and I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

She hung up the phone, paced around the kitchen.“Damn you Shane,” she whispered. “How could I have forgotten?”

“Auntie Marnie?” A sleepy voice from the kitchen door. For a heart-beat, Marnie thought it was Mona standing there, rumpled from sleep, in her rabbit-print pajamas. Then she blinked, and realized it was Jasmine. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Has something bad happened to Uncle Shane?”

She held open her arms, and the girl ran in to give her a hug. “Your uncle is sick,” Marnie told her. 

“Like mama was?” she asked. “Before she died?”

Marnie nodded. “Yes. Kind of.”

“Is Shane going to die too?”

“No pet,” she whispered, squeezed the girl tight. “He’s going to come back here, and get better.” But I need to get to him first. She could drive now, take the van, but could hardly leave Jasmine alone with Trent, not when he was so sick. Yoba, what if something happened to him while she was away? Besides the road was treacherous enough during the day, with its steep winding curves and sheer cliffs. She didn’t trust herself to drive in this state. In fact, she shouldn’t even go to a hospital at all. Those places were filled with viruses. What if she bought something back? But she couldn’t worry too much about that now. 

Now she had to call someone. But who? Who could she ring at half-three on a Wednesday morning?

Marlon answered on the fifth ring. “Marnie, what’s wrong?”

“Sorry, it’s another late night emergency,” she sobbed over the phone. “Shane’s in hospital. It’s the anniversary of Mona’s death. Well, yesterday was and...” she faltered, whispered, “I forgot to call him.”

Marlon cursed. “Do you need a ride, a baby-sitter or both?”

“Both...” she ventured. “I mean, I don’t need to leave until dawn. But I can’t leave Trent by himself, and I don’t know what to do with Jasmine, and Shane’s all alone and... I think he tried to,” she glanced at Jasmine, still in the kitchen with her, “he, he hurt himself. Badly. They wouldn’t give me details but... Yoba. What do I do?”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Marlon said, his voice calm and soothing, like he was trying to pacify a frightened animal. “I’ll be right over.” 

“Thank you so much,” she croaked, her voice hoarse with gratitude. “Marlon, you’re a godsend. I owe you so, so much.”

He gave a throaty chuckle. “Well, I’d just like you to know Marns, I’m keeping track.”

She busied herself trying to get Jasmine back into bed, to read her a story, but the girl wouldn’t settle. Stubborn, just like her mother.

“Are you going to see Shane?” she asked.

“Yes pet.”

“I’m coming with you.” She crossed her arms defiantly.

“You can’t sweetie. It’s the middle of the night. You’ve got school in the morning.”

“Penny won’t mind, and Shane needs me to make him better. I’ve got the best medicine.” She scrambled off the bed and kissed Marnie on the cheek. “See, you’re all better now!”

Jasmine certainly did make a compelling argument. But... that didn’t change the fact that Marnie didn’t know what had happened to Shane. What if he’d been horribly hurt? Was mangled or maimed? Shit.

A vehicle pulled up outside, its engine loud against the country silence. Two voices.

“This better be good, getting an old man up in the middle of the freaking night.”

“Gil?” Marnie abandoned all hope of getting Jasmine settled into bed, and hurried to the door. Gil stalked in, closely followed by Marlon. 

Marlon offered her a shrug. “The phone woke pa,” he said. “And he insisted on coming along.”

“Some kind of emergency?” Gil mumbled. “Kid in trouble?”

“Not me,” Jasmine replied. “My uncle’s hurt. Auntie Marnie and I got to go and rescue him.”

“Oh you do, do you?” Marlon arched his eyebrow and cast a sideways glance at Marnie. “Is that true?”

Marnie sighed. “Well, unless your father is prepared to look after an almost seven-year old who is almost certainly not going to get back to sleep tonight, then I guess... well... what do you think?”

“I think that smile could make anyone feel better,” Marlon replied, and received a beaming smile for the praise. “And father’s not good at keeping up with young legs.”

“So you invited me here to husband-sit?” Gil asked. Then shrugged, “Ah, there’s worse things to do. You folks got cable?”

“I’m afraid not,” Marnie replied.

“But we’ve heaps and heaps of DVDs!” Jasmine announced. “And the inter-webs. Not that I’m allowed to play on that.”

“Good enough,” Gil replied. “Any special instructions? I don’t have to burp him and clean his diaper, do I?”

“Um, tell him where we are, and I guess just... keep him company until we get back?” Marnie suggested. “You might need to force him to eat breakfast, and try to keep him from doing too much around the farm.” The animals would just have to wait. “Okay Jasmine, go and get dressed. We’re going to rescue your uncle.”

Jasmine cheered and ran off and, with Marlon fumbling with the DVD player, Marnie went to check on Trent. Somehow, he’d managed to sleep through the raucousness. She padded over to check that he was still breathing. Yes. Thank Yoba. A new, frequent practice, filled with a deep crushing dread that one day she might find him cold and still – and dead. Damn Marnie, when did you get so morbid? She kissed her fingertips, and pressed them gently against his cheek.

“Goodbye love, I’ll be back soon.” 

He smacked his lips and muttered, “Love you too. Have fun.”

Choking back a sob, because fun was the last thing on her mind, she ducked into her room and dressed hastily in the first things that came to hand: jeans, a button-up shirt. Threw on a light jacket, because although it was heading towards summer, the nights were still chilly. She popped into the bathroom, grabbed their toothbrushes. Then keys, wallet, cell phone. She was good to go.

“You’re really wearing that?” Marlon greeted her. She startled, then realized he was talking to Jasmine. The girl wore her bright pink ‘princess’ dress, coupled with a pair of fairy wings, and clutched a soft toy unicorn.

“Yes,” she replied. “Cos fairies grant wishes and Rainbow’s magic.”

“Can’t argue with that. You guys good to go? All good pa?” 

Gil grunted in assertion. He’d seated himself in front of the television, and was watching one of Jasmine’s animated movies.

“Pah, ridiculous,” he muttered. “Real trolls aren’t nearly that cute.”

Marnie grabbed a couple of blankets and nodded. “Let’s go.” 

Marlon drove the steep, winding road out of Pelican Town with a swift efficiency that would have made Trent nervous. 

“I don’t get the opportunity to leave town very often,” he said. Marnie wondered how sensible she’d been entrusting a child – and herself – to a driver with only one eye, during the night. She clutched the handle above the door – the ‘holy Yoba’ handles, Trent had called them, when he’d been teaching her how to drive – and tried to stare at the road ahead, rather than the sheer drop off to her right. Thank Yoba the road was empty, save for the occasional swooping owl or darting rabbit.

“Because the warrior can’t leave?” she asked.

“Indeed. Well, mostly. I mean, I’ve had a bit more freedom since the powers-that-be boarded up the mines. And, it’s highly unlikely the Void’s going to rise and overwhelm the town if I’m away for one night. Even if it does, my pa’s fairly handy with a sword.”

“How’s Rasmus?” she asked, casting a quick glance back at Jasmine, strapped into her car seat. The girl hugged her unicorn, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“Lonely,” he replied, switching the gears down as he slowed for a corner. “But he’ll be okay. He’s had a rough run of things. We all have.”

There wasn’t really much to say after that. They fell into silence, and Marlon slipped a cassette on, very quietly. 

“Hey,” she whispered. “That sounds familiar. ‘Songs to annoy posh girls’ right?”

His mustache twitched with his smile. “Yep, kept myself a copy, but the truck’s the only place I can play the old tech anymore. I do sometimes wonder what happened to your old roomie.”

“I tried to find her, you know,” Marnie said, “on that social network thing that all the kids are into nowadays – MyFace or whatever it is? No luck though. Shit, things seemed so much easier in those days.”

“Growing up’s a bitch,” he replied. “You ever feel like the valley kinda... stagnated after the mines shut down? Like we’re trapped in time or something?”

“I think that’s just life,” Marnie replied. “But it’s sad that the community center’s just crumbling into ruin and ... well, now Lewis has sold the site of the old school off to JojaCorp, of all things.”

“Yeh, cos what we really need in a village with, like thirty people, is a bloody JojaMart.”

They lapsed back into silence.

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Marnie asked. She wasn’t quite sure who she was asking about: Shane, Rasmus. Trent?

“I hope so,” Marlon replied.

Further silence, as Marlon navigated the steep, winding descent.

“Thank you again,” she said, when he reached the straight and narrow. “For doing this for us, in the middle of the night and all.”

“You know I would do just anything to…” he whispered, and Marnie started for a heartbeat, until she realized he was singing along with the song.

“This one always gets me,” she said. “It’s like being stabbed in the goddamn heart.”

“Trapped in time,” he sung. His baritone blended surprisingly well with the vocalist’s melancholic tenor. “I cannot leave you...” 

She added her voice to his for the chorus. 

He cast her a sly glance. “Can’t sing, eh Marns?”

“Don’t sing. And it’s not like I’m any good. Dis-Harmony, they called me back in middle school.”

“Seriously? Shit, kids are cruel.”

“What’d they call you?”

His mustache twitched. “Sir.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “My father had me training with twin swords from the time I turned six, and I was running the caves alone from the age of nine. Nobody dared tease me. Well, at least not twice.”

The final chords faded away. “Now can we have something a little happier, please?” 

“Been too long?” his eye twinkled. “Can’t remember what’s next?”

It began, and she barked a laugh. “We’re not gonna take it! Hell yeah, that’s more like it.”

“The anthem of rebellion for all us wild eighties youths.”

Their voices joined, in quiet harmony, as they passed the turn-off to Grampleton and pulled onto the motorway.

It was almost 5am by the time Marlon had finally navigated the network of Zuzu’s streets and pulled up outside the public hospital.

Marlon adjusted his eye-patch. “Right,” he said. “Does this place have visiting hours? Or can we just march right in?”

Jasmine stirred sleepily in the back. “Are we there yet,” she mumbled.

“Yes petal.” Marnie scrambled from the cabin and freed the girl from her restraints. “You ready to help save your uncle?”

She nodded in affirmation. Marnie smoothed her dress and straightened her wings. 

They found the entrance easily enough, but Marnie dashed the girl – and herself – off to use the facilities before she approached the reception desk.

“Shane Cavanagh?” the receptionist said. “Well, it is very early, and he’s not critical but... given the circumstances.” She gave them directions and smiled down at Jasmine. “Is he your daddy, love?”

“My godfather,” she replied. “My daddy’s dead.”

Sometimes Marnie wondered if Jasmine was aiming for the shock factor.

“It’s okay,” she added. “He died before I was born.”

“Come on.” Marnie took her hand. “We have to go and rescue your godfather, right? Is he awake?” she asked the receptionist, who responded with a shrug. 

The night staff helped guide them to his room, fussing over Jasmine. “I’m Jasmine the happy-wish fairy,” she informed them. “Only, I don’t have a wand – I have a unicorn! And unicorns are a trillion times better.”

Shane’s bed was in the corner of a large ward. The night nurse escorted them in, drew the curtain mostly shut around them. 

“We’re not sure how long he’ll sleep for,” the nurse informed them. “But you’re welcome to sit with him. Just... please don’t wake the other patients. The nurse’s lounge is just down the hall, if you need a coffee or anything. When he does wake up, he’s likely to be confused. Please, just push this button if you have any problems.”

Shane was sprawled out on his back beneath a thin sheet, wearing one of those horrible hospital gowns. No obvious injuries, thank Yoba, just some tubes, a needle in his arm, and a machine that beeped in time with his heartbeat. The chart, hanging above his bed, indicated a Temazepam overdose.

Sleeping tablets. Intentional or accidental?

Jasmine snuggled the unicorn in under his chin. “Rainbow will give you sweet dreams,” she said, then scrambled into the bed and curled up next to him.

“Careful,” Marnie whispered, having visions of knocked out tubes and a screaming alarm.

Jasmine just rolled her eyes. “I know, Auntie.”

Marlon, standing in the gap in the curtain and looking awkward, muttered something about going to find them a coffee and left. Marnie sat herself down in the uncomfortable chair. She should’ve brought a book or two, so she’d have some way to amuse Jasmine. Not that it mattered anyway, because, a few minutes later, the girl had fallen asleep.

She flicked through her phone, sent out a couple of texts: to Penny, to let her know that Jasmine wouldn’t be in class today. To Trent, to make sure he was feeling okay and reminding him to eat breakfast. She considered texting Lewis, then thought better of it. 

Instead, she found a story to delve into – something sexy with shape-shifters – and read until her eyes began to droop.

Next thing she knew, Marlon was nudging her. “Hey, sleeping beauty,” he whispered. “The big bad wolf is here. But he comes bearing coffee.”

She laughed drowsily. “You’re mixing up your fairy-tales. I think you’re supposed to kiss me awake.”

“I’m not sure your husband would approve,” he replied. “But, do you think it would work with him?” He nodded at Shane.

Marnie yawned, and fished her phone out from the side of the chair. “Go on,” she said. “Give it a go.” She accepted the coffee from him. The aroma sharp, the taste bitter. “I’m waiting.”

“Nah,” he said, after a long pause. “I’d probably give the poor kid a heart attack. Who wants to wake up to this ugly mug?” He pilfered a chair from another cubicle and sat down beside her.

“You’re not ugly,” Marnie replied, tiredness running away with her tongue. “You’re... weathered.”

“Weathered? Ha, thanks for that.”

“Well, your beard does kinda make you look a bit, I dunno, wild man?”

He ran his fingers over it. “Hmm. I suppose you’re right.” He stifled a yawn. “I’m going to go for a walk. Text me if he wakes up.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, standing to give him a hug. “There’s probably a million things you’d rather be doing than sitting here watching someone sleep.”

“It’s okay.” He patted her on the back. “I meant what I said in the car.”

What had he said? Her mind was muddled with nerves and tiredness. She couldn’t remember.

“Anyhow,” he continued, “this is the first time I’ve been to Zuzu in oh, almost ten years, so how could I resist the chance to look around? See how much it’s changed? Besides, it’s fun to watch a city wake up.”

“Don’t get lost,” she cautioned him. Her stomach rumbled. “Oh, and if you could bring back something to eat?”

He saluted. “Your wish is my command.” And sauntered off.

Her phone battery faded into the red, and she ducked out to the nurse’s lounge to see if she could scavenge a charging cable.

“How’s our sleeping handsome?” the nurse asked her.

“Still sleeping,” she replied. “How long do you think it’ll be until he wakes? He came in at 10pm.”

“Can’t say for sure,” the nurse replied, “but he’s likely been out for almost ten hours. So, hopefully soon.” He added, a little cautiously, “We’re not supposed to discuss his case, because we haven’t got his permission to do so, but with Temazepam, there’s a chance he could slip into a coma.”

“Oh,” Marnie muttered, guilt and sorrow crushing her heart. She returned to the ward, and was about to draw back the curtain, when she heard low voices.

“You should tell her Uncle Marlon,” Jasmine in a semi-urgent whisper. 

“I can’t,” came Marlon’s low rumble. “Besides, it doesn’t matter now – it’s too late anyway.”

“What’s too late?” Her heart fluttered with panic as she drew back the curtain. Both conspirators jumped like they’d been caught sharing state secrets, Jasmine shot Marlon a pointed look, and he shook his head. Mouthed, “No.” Then held up a paper bag.

“I bought us crepes.”

“Crepes?” She laughed and took it from him. Realized Jasmine was covered in icing sugar, and her fingers were sticky with syrup. “I would’ve thought you’d prefer a more hearty, manly breakfast.”

“Hey.” He grinned at her. “Even a warrior can have a sweet tooth. Crepes are good.”

“I’m just amazed you found them at,” she checked her phone, “half-seven in the morning. You have a good walk?”

He nodded. There was something different about his face, and it took her a moment to put her finger on it. “Wait. Did you get a … beard trim?”

A casual shrug. “I may have stumbled past a barber, and thought, maybe a little less ‘wild man’ might be appreciated.”

“I like it,” she said. “Now you’re more ‘piratical rogue’.”

Was that the faintest hint of color in his cheeks? Surely not. Warriors didn’t blush.

“You should tell her,” Jasmine said in a whisper loud enough to be heard across the ward.

He scowled, and opened his mouth to say something, when Shane suddenly whimpered. A spasm passed along his body.

“Shane!” Marnie raced to his side. Was he having a seizure? Her hand went to the call button, but Jasmine pushed under her arm, and grabbed his hand.

His body stilled, but his long, dark eyelashes fluttered. Eyes opened. “Mona?” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I fucked up, Mo. I fucked up bad.”

“Sssh.” Jasmine pressed her finger against his lips. “It’s me. Jasmine. We’ve come to rescue you. But don’t swear. Swearing is bad.”

“I’ll tell the nurses he’s awake.” Marlon took the opportunity to make his escape.

Marnie took Shane’s other hand in hers, and traced her fingers over the pale skin. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I forgot, and left you alone. All alone. I’m sorry I failed you.” Like I failed Mona. But, with Shane at least, there was the chance for redemption.

*

Shane was submitted to a bevvy of tests and a psychological assessment. While Marnie sat in the waiting room, twiddling her thumbs, Marlon took Jasmine for a walk in the gardens beside the hospital. They came back with a handful of wildflowers.

“For you,” Jasmine presented them to her uncle.

“Thank you,” he said, and wrapped her in a hug.

“I told her we shouldn’t pick them,” Marlon said sheepishly. “But she’s very persuasive.”

“We had ice creams,” Jasmine declared. “And fed the ducks.”

“Extremely persuasive.” He took Marnie by the shoulder, guided her into the corner. “How is he? I mean, really?”

“Quiet. Confused. Apologetic. I’m still not sure if he did it on purpose, or if it was just a way to dull the pain.” She allowed herself to sink into Marlon’s embrace, and tried not to focus too much on how strong and comforting his arms were, compared with Trent’s fragility. “The drugs have passed through his system, and he’s spoken with a psychologist. They seem to think that his risk of relapse,” of hurting himself again, “is low, and he’s safe to go home. Home, Marlon, he has to come back with us. Come back and watch Trent...” watch Trent die.

“It’ll be alright Marns,” Marlon whispered, he stroked her back with one hand and pressed a kiss upon the forehead.

But she wasn’t sure she believed him.

*

Shane left with them a few hours later, wearing a pair of sweat pants too short for him, and a faded Manowar t-shirt that the nurses had dug out of lost property. 

“I came in naked,” he admitted, ruffling his hair and studying the ground intently. “They fished me out of the bath. Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

He winced as he scrambled into the back of the truck.

“Are you okay?” Marnie asked.

He barked a hollow laugh. “I think you know the answer to that question. But yeah, I just buggered my back a little, playing gridball. Handled a tackle badly; too damned stubborn to go down. Disqualified myself from the finals.” He ruffled his hair. “That was... just one of the problems.” 

Marlon lifted Jasmine into her car seat, and Shane secured the straps.

“Can’t believe school kids have gotta sit in these things still,” Marlon muttered. “Heck, in my day we used to ride in the flat-bed.”

*

Marlon pulled up outside Shane’s apartment. They went in to pick up his stuff. His room-mate turned off the television and stared at him like he’d seen a ghost. “Shit Shane,” he said, striding across to shake his hand and clap him on the back. “I’m fucking glad you’re still with us. Wasn’t sure... when I found you. Dude, you’re fucking lucky you didn’t drown.”

“Dude, language,” Shane glanced at Jasmine, who glared at the room-mate. “This is my niece, Jasmine, and my Auntie Marnie.”

“Pleased to meet you. Liam,” he said, by way of introduction. “And who’s the pirate?”

“Uncle Marlon,” Jasmine replied. 

“Just Marlon’s fine,” Marlon replied, stepped forward and shook hands with Liam. “We’re not actually related,” he added, gesturing at Shane.

Liam didn’t appear to care, although Marnie noted that he sort of cradled his arm afterward; Marlon gave a firm handshake. “So, Shane dude, what’s gonna happen now? You coming back?”

“Nah, just stopped by to pick up my stuff. Auntie’s taking me back to PT.” He paused. “I’ll pay my rent ‘til the end of the month.”

“Sweet,” Liam replied. “Look, man. Take care, okay? And next time... well, maybe you should just, like, talk to someone first? Fuck,” he cast a guilty glance at Jasmine, “sorry.” He lowered his voice. “Just, it’s pretty f– freaking awful to come home and find your roomie unconscious in a bath filled with vomit and sh–“ he stopped himself in time. “I thought you were goddamn dead.” 

*

“It’s not a lot of fun back at the ranch,” Marnie cautioned him. “As you know, Trent’s very ill, and we’ve rented out the cottage – to a young lass, an artist.” They’d have to shuffle the beds around, maybe bring the bunks out of storage.

“He can share my room,” Jasmine declared. “I’ll keep the monsters away.”

“Thanks petal,” he kissed her on the forehead. “That sounds fine.”

*

Seeing the shock flicker on Shane’s face at the sight of Trent, sent a stab of heartbreak through Marnie. The disease had twisted him into a hollow husk, at once both puffy from the drugs and the glandular swelling, yet also so gaunt, it looked like a strong wind could splinter him.

He rose from his heavily-padded armchair and came to greet the young man.

“Shane,” he said. “You’re an idiot.”

Shane studied the floor, and scuffed his foot in the carpet. “I know,” he whispered.

“And we’re so glad you’re still here. We love you, bud.” 

Shane suffered the half-hug and black-slap in good grace. And ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not even sure why I did it,” he confessed. “Why I took them all. I don’t think I actually... wanted to,” a quick glance for Jasmine, but she’d darted off to her room, “to die. Everything just hurt, so damned much, and I just wanted it to go away. To just sleep.”

Trent gave a rueful chuckle. “Believe me when I say it bud, from the perspective of someone who is staring death in the face, that there are some things worth living for.” Jasmine came running back, hugging a worn out teddy bear, and thrust it into Shane’s arms.

“Is that...?” he stared down at the battered toy in amazement. “Teddy?”

Jasmine nodded. “He’s been waiting for you to come home.”


	40. Mourning Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marnie and the family celebrate Winter Star. It's a bittersweet festival because, for Trent, it will be his last.

25th December 2017

“Happy Winter Star!” Jasmine ran into the bedroom, and flung herself onto the bed. “Come on, get up! It’s time to find the presents.”

Marnie yawned and stretched. The girl had taken forever to go to sleep last night, and Marnie and Shane had been up until after midnight, wrapping presents and hiding them around the house and the farm buildings.

Mona and Abigail had set up the first annual Winter Star scavenger hunt back in 2004, and somehow, the tradition had stuck. Shane seemed more animated than he’d been in months – even in the midst of death and despair, Winter Star still brought with it a sense of wonder.

Trent had been insistent. “This is my last Winter Star,” he’d declared a week ago. “So you’d better make it a good one. No wallowing permitted.”

The cancer had claimed large portions of his lungs, and now marched on his other organs. They’d stopped chemotherapy, and now he merely took a small pharmacy of drugs to keep more-or-less functional.

“Breakfast first,” Marnie instructed, scrambling out of bed. “But before that, you need to get dressed.”

Jasmine grumbled, but ran off to obey, giving Marnie the chance to get out of bed and check on her husband.

He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. 

“Happy Winter Star,” she whispered, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. 

“Happy Winter Star yourself.” He offered her a shaky smile, and a quick kiss. She helped him out of bed and into the shower: washed, dried, dressed. His ridiculous knitted Winter Star sweater hung off his now-gaunt frame.

Clattering from the kitchen.

“Pancakes and eggs!” Shane called when he heard the bathroom door opening. “Coming right up.”

“And bacon?” Trent asked.

“Of course,” Shane scoffed. “Finest Fairview free-range.”

Trent picked at his food, putting on a brave face, because that was the kind of man he was. Stalwart, courageous.

Jasmine was too restless to eat, although Marnie refused to let her leave the table until she’d eaten three bites of everything.

“One. Two. Three.” Her cutlery clattered onto the table. “Can we go hunting now? Puh-lease?”

“Okay.” 

Jasmine was off and away before the last syllable fell.

Shane shot Marnie a small smile. She’d been watching him with eagle eyes since June, and he seemed mostly okay. The new JojaMart had opened a couple of months ago, and he’d got a job there.

“I want to pay my way,” he said.

“We’ll be okay,” she’d tried to dissuade him. “Trent’s got good insurance cover.”

But Shane had been insistent. “You’ve done so much for me throughout my life, Auntie,” he said. “You may not need me to do this – but I do. Please.”

She’d invited the current tenant of the cottage over for Winter Star – had been, perhaps, hoping she and Shane might become friends – but Leah had politely declined. “I thought it might be fun to join the town celebration,” she’d said. More fun than watching a stranger die, Marnie added in her head. 

“Found the first present!” Jasmine shrieked in jubilation. “It was under the tree!” She held up the wrapped bundle. “This one’s for... Poppa!” she presented it to him with a flourish, and drew out the piece of paper folded into the ribbon.

Trent’s hands shook as he opened the gift. A delicately carved box, that Marnie had commissioned from Robin.

It might have seemed a fairly morbid gift for someone chronically ill, but a wide smile lit Trent’s thin face and danced in his eyes. He traced the elaborate carvings: a relief of birds and other animals, with an intricate ivy border.

“It’s beautiful,” he said. “You better display it – and me – in pride of place.”

She laughed through her tears. “I have a space reserved on the mantlepiece especially. And,” she added, “it’s large enough that, well, I can join you in there, one day.”

“Not for a long time, I hope.” He ran his hand down her cheek and drew her towards him for a kiss. His lips were cool and dry. Shane glanced away, uncomfortable, she suspected, with how lightly they discussed death. But Trent had never been one to flinch from the inevitable.

“What’s the next clue?” Shane asked Jasmine.

“It’s a riddle,” she said. “What room do ... goats avoid? Huh?”

“Read it again,” Trent suggested with a small chuckle.

“Your hand-writing is atrocious,” she said. It was her new favorite word. Her forehead furrowed. “Ghosts? What room to ghosts avoid?” She pondered it for a moment, then gave a chortle. “The living room!” And ran off again.

Trent seized his walking stick and hobbled after her. Marnie followed, worried he might fall. He’d grown so weak so fast. The present was hidden, not particularly well, behind one of the cushions on couch, and Jasmine found it in a heartbeat.

“Oh, this one is for you, Uncle Shane.”

There were a dozen gifts altogether, one for each of the adults – which Jasmine presented to them with great ceremony – and a lot of small ones for her. Each contained a clue leading to the next. Shane and Trent had conspired for several weeks to create a series of challenges that included a treasure map, riddles, a couple of anagrams, and some very bad puns:   
“You wood not be-leaf where the last gift resides.   
Be cherry, and branch out into the for-rest outside.”   
She studied it. “Your spelling is atrocious,” she said to Shane.

He rose an eyebrow. “Is it really? Perhaps that’s the clue.”

“Wood. Be leaf. For rest,” she read out loud. “Trees! The forest!”

“You missed one.” He took her arm, pointed to the second word on the second line.

“Cherry? Oh the cherry blossom tree!” She chortled with laughter and ran out of the barn, feet crunching in the snow, Shane at her side. Marnie helped Trent along after her. Her husband was visibly faltering, but he refused to be left behind.

“This is the last one,” he said. “And you can’t deny a dying man his final wish.”

“Of course not.” Marnie kissed his cheek.

They arrived, just as Jasmine found the final gift.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight after she read the tag. “This one’s for me. And it’s a bike!”

“All terrain.” Trent managed a weary grin. “For cycling through Cindersap.” It was bright neon pink, and had a basket on the front, in which rested a rainbow-colored helmet. She threw her arms around his waist. “I love it, Poppa! Will you teach me how to ride it?”

He leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. “Sorry pet, but... I think Shane’ll have to do the honors there.”

Marnie felt the grief well up in her throat, almost choking her with the finality of it all.

“Because you’re going away?” Jasmine asked.

He knelt before her, and embraced her. “Because I’m going away.”

“To live with my mommy and my dad,” she said. “In a candyfloss castle across the soda-pop stream?”

Marnie cast a curious glance at Shane, but he just shrugged.

“Yes,” Trent replied, all serious. “But they have the castle, I reckon I’ll be their animal-keeper, look after their...”

“Unicorns!” she announced. “And teach the baby gryphons how to fly.”

“That sounds wonderful,” he replied, wiping a tear from his eyes.

Jasmine squeezed him tight. “I’m gonna miss you, Poppa. So very, very much.”

“And I’m gonna miss you too, petal,” he replied, then cast his gaze at Shane, before lingering on Marnie and offering her a small, sad smile. “I’m gonna miss all of you.”

*

December 27, 2017

Marnie crawled into the bed beside her husband, and studied him, knowing this was it – the end. It ached her to the core, to see his cheeks so gaunt, the yellow tinge to his skin and his eyes. She stroked the short red prickles that covered his scalp, making him look like a hedgehog. But his eyes were still bright.

“I love you,” she whispered, and pressed a feather-light kiss upon his cheek.

“I love you too. I’m sorry we only managed twenty-five years together,” his voice was so weak, little more than a whispered rasp, barely audible over the hiss of the oxygen tank. “It should’ve been forever. I wanted to grow old together, Marn.”

“Me too,” she replied. “But I’m glad we had this long.” They’d stood together through so much heart-ache, both loved and lost so much.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was so quiet that she had to almost press her ear against him. “I’m sorry we never had a child of our own. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you... that much.” “It’s okay,” she replied. “We had Mona, and Shane – and Jasmine. They were all I ever needed.”

“No,” the increased urgency in his tone made him breathless. “I never told you... I was selfish... and I never told you... when I was... little... before my parents… died. I was sick... very sick.” He clasped her hand with his, squeezed it. His grip was so feeble. “Cancer,” he rasped. “They gave me radiation... cured it... but...” (Rendered him infertile). 

“When... when you fell pregnant... I thought... maybe Yoba had seen fit to bless us... then...” (Benjamin died) 

“And you gave up... up hope.”

She blinked back tears. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does... I withheld the truth... and denied you... the chance.” His grip tightened. “There’s still hope, Marn.”

There’s not, she thought fiercely. 

His grip tightened. “Mourn me...” he whispered. “But... let yourself love again Marn. There’s someone... he’s been waiting so damned long...” A spasm passed through him and his grip loosened. His next breath rattled in his lungs, and he did not draw another.


	41. Obituary

Jacobson, Trenton Alain: Passed away peacefully after a fierce battle with cancer, on December 27th, 2017: aged 52 years. Dearly loved husband of Marnie Jacobson (nee Stewart) and uncle to Shane and Mona, poppa to Jasmine, and beloved to all who knew him. Trent will be forever missed.

A memorial service will be held at his home, Cinders Ranch, on December 30th. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part Three.  
> Part Four will begin next week,with 2019, finally bringing it in to the same time period as "Broken".


	42. Broken Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grieving for her husband, Marnie seeks comfort in the wrong places. Meanwhile, Shane finds his own way to mend.  
> A chapter of grief, dysfunction and hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here - finally! - we overlap with my first 'fic, "Broken".  
> If you haven't read that one yet, well, this one contains spoilers. Many spoilers.
> 
> Contains: Dysfunctional relationships. Sex for the wrong reasons. Marnie's fling with Lewis.

Spring 2019

“Lewis,” Marnie said, trying to keep her voice calm. They were lying in the playground’s castle fort, and staring up at the sky. It was a clear night, and the stars shimmered like thousands of jewels. “Do you think, maybe, we could make our relationship public?” “Marnie, we can’t.” Lewis rolled over onto his side and stared at her. His tie was loose and he hadn’t yet refastened his suspenders. 

“Why not?” she demanded. Why did she continue to let him fuck her and reject her like this? Maybe Caroline was right in calling her a whore. “Are you ashamed of me?”

“No!” Lewis exclaimed. He sat, refastened his suspenders and claimed his flat cap from the corner of the fort. “It’s only, well, if word got out, it could undermine my position of authority in this town. You understand, don’t you?”

“You care too much about your job, Lewis,” Marnie muttered. “Not that it isn’t important, I mean, the town relies on you for a lot. But, well, there are other things in life, you know.” 

She couldn’t help but wonder how having a stable, established relationship would undermine his position in town more than random shagging in bushes and on the playground equipment.

“But yes, I understand,” she agreed. “I guess we’ll have to keep... this – us – a secret.”

There was part of her that knew she was being an idiot. That knew he wasn’t interested in her for her, but for the thrill of ‘freedom sex’. The thrill that at any time they might get caught.

Now she had grown weary of that thrill, of his hands on her, his body pressed hot and hard against hers, as he fucked her against a wall.

It was all just sex, but she wanted more than that. She wanted someone who she could talk with for hours about books, movies, music. About, well, anything.

She wanted Trenton. But he was dead and gone, his ashes sitting in the box on her mantelpiece.

Their fling – she hesitated to think of it as an affair, since she was officially a widow – began not long after the funeral. 

It started subtle, with the Mayor paying her visits, every few days, to ‘check that she was okay’.

“You’ve been through so much grief, Marnie,” he said, his voice as sweet as honeyed water. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

In truth, there wasn’t a lot, since she’d sold most of the sheep and a few of the goats, and leased out the hilltop paddock to Fairview. They were using it to fatten their wethers before the slaughter – but Marnie tried not to think too hard about their future fate. At least their short lives would be good lives. 

Shane helped out with the chickens, and Jasmine lavished the rescue animals with love.

“We’ll be fine,” she said. “Thank you.”

“If there’s anything I can do,” Lewis repeated, and placed his hand upon hers. He ran his fingers across the back of her hand in a whisper of a caress – a caress that made her flinch, but also shiver.

Marnie, behave! she’d scolded the flutter of eager anticipation. Your husband’s ashes have barely cooled.

But she didn’t draw her hand away.

Marlon had made her a similar – if rather less forward – offer, the day of the funeral. He’d come to her afterward, when many of the guests had gone, and she’d sobbed into his shoulder. She seemed to always be crying on him, or calling him in the middle of the night with some emergency or another. It was a miracle he wasn’t sick of her by now.

“If you need me,” he said, and the intensity of his gaze impaled her, “in any way. Please, do not hesitate to call. Any time, day or night.” 

She’d laughed at that. And shivered a bit with nervousness as well, because the warmth and sheer muscular strength of him stirred feelings that neither a good friend, nor a married woman (even one recently widowed) should have. “I will,” she promised.

But she hadn’t, even when she’d awoken at 2 am, her body tingling with the desire for someone to touch her, to hold her. Because they were friends. And, to take the relationship any further, well, she knew what happened then.

She’d been through it all, already, with Rasmus.

Besides, he probably hadn’t meant that anyway.

Then, on the first day of spring, when Shane was at work and Jasmine taking her lessons with Penny, the Mayor came past on his weekly visit.

“We need to discuss the ongoing status of your ranch,” he said.

“What about it?” she asked. Trent’s insurance had been thorough – his passing may not have left her rich, but she could manage comfortably enough for a good few years.

“This is not, exactly, a profitable business,” he said. “But, there has recently become community funding available.” He stepped closer to her, engulfing her in the scent of cologne. “And I’m sure we could come to some sort of... arrangement.”

He’d kissed her without warning. His thin lips pressed to hers, cologne intoxicating.

She’d resisted for a heart-beat, but her body had responded against her better judgment. For almost an entire year, she’d barely been able to touch her husband for fear of hurting him. Grief had dulled her senses, numbing them into a kind of deep, dark limbo. But the warmth of him, the taste of him (spicy, like he’d been chewing hot peppers) stirred something in her she’d considered long dormant.

So, Yoba forgive her, she kissed him back. And, before she knew it, he had pushed her up against the door frame, her skirts pushed aside, and was thrusting and grunting inside her.

She hated herself afterward. Harlot, whore. 

But, for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt alive.

And she couldn’t seem to stop herself from letting him in – again and again... And again. In dark corners, in the bushes, on the goddamn playground. There was no romance to their fling, nothing but raw, desperate rutting. No condoms either, but he waved away her concerns.

“I’ve had the snip,” he said. “There’s no risk.”

No risk to you, she thought darkly. Took a trip to a clinic in Grampletown that offered anonymity, and had herself tested for VDs. Felt an amazing sense of relief when the tests came back negative. 

*

Shane was less than understanding. She hadn’t told him – she hadn’t told anyone – at first because she was embarrassed at her own wanton libido, then, later, because Lewis has asked her – practically pleaded her – not to.

But, when she came in close to midnight, still picking leaves from her hair, Shane was seated at the table, a beer in his hand, and a couple more crushed cans on the table. 

“So, you’re boning the Mayor,” he greeted her the moment she walked through the door.

“So what if I am?” she returned, angry at him – but even angrier at herself. She pulled out the chair and sat opposite him. “I’m an adult woman and a widow, it’s my choice whom I choose to get intimate with.”

“Fuck Auntie,” Shane muttered. He’d clearly had too much to drink, a sadly commonplace occurrence nowadays. “I know that, but seriously – him? He’s a total douche.”

“He’s the mayor of this town!” Outrage seethed in her. “He deserves our respect.”

Shane laughed, downed the can and staggered to the fridge to grab another. “Want one?” He waved one in her general direction.

She accepted it, if only to stop him drinking it. What if he had a problem? Had she become so caught up in her illicit liaisons that she was overlooking his growing dependence on alcohol?

Then again, it was only beer, right? It wasn’t like he was drinking hard liquor.

“Why?” he asked, chin raised in defiance and eyes slightly unfocused. “Tell me one thing that gob-shite has actually done for this town.”

Marnie considered it for a moment. “He organizes the festivals,” she said. “And created the town agricultural fund to invigorate the local economy.” Damn, she sounded like she was reciting his CV.

“Yet the community center is still in ruins, Darkhaven is a total overgrown mess, and he hasn’t done anything to fix up the museum after that lowlife stole all the artifacts. And, let’s not forget, he also sold the old school site to fucking JojaCorp.”

“Your current employers,” Marnie reminded him. 

“Fuuuuck.” Shane sculled the last of his can and crushed it like it had personally offended him. “Don’t goddamn remind me. You gonna drink that?” He slurred his words. Marnie had no intention of drinking it – kinda felt like throwing it in his face – but she clung to the can anyway. “I think you’ve had enough.”

He belched. “I’m a grown adult. It’s my choice how much I drink.”

“You’re still living under my roof,” she reminded him, let venom creep into her tone.

But the worst of it was, Shane was right. When Lewis had taken the reins of Mayor in ‘97, the place had already been a ghost town, and nothing had improved in the last twenty years. Nothing.

“Anyway,” Shane continued, apparently oblivious to her venom. “Dude’s a classic narcissist. I wouldn’t be shocked to find out he was embezzling town funds to, I dunno, make a gold statue of himself or something.” He went to fetch another can from the fridge, cursed, and came back empty-handed. “All I’m saying, Auntie, is you can do a lot better than that old geezer. Hell, what about the pirate warrior-dude, Marlon? Shit, he drove all the way to fucking Zuzu, just to help you drag my sorry ass out of hospital. Plus Jas likes him.”

“He and I are friends,” she said. “We’ve been friends forever. He’s not interested in me, not like that. Besides, I’m pretty sure he and Rasmodius are, you know, an item.”

Shane merely rose his eyebrow. “You sure about that, Auntie?”

*

She dwelt on those words later, and drew the shoebox out from the back of her wardrobe. Began to read those silly, soppy postcards while listening to the mix-tapes he’d made for her.

Had he crushed on her? The postcards were nauseating, stupid, clearly just a game between two teenagers in an effort to irritate a posh goth-girl. Even that ridiculous poem was just a series of cliches, mostly stolen from romance novels. 

And the songs? Well, some like ‘Prisoner’, reeked of yearning and unrequited love, but others, like WASP’s ‘Animal’ were clearly included to disturb the ‘prim and proper’ girls of St Helena’s (a blatant miscall, given most of the students Marnie knew). Even if the coarseness of the lyrics had made Luci laugh and Marnie blush.

Besides, they were more than thirty years old. She certainly wasn’t the same person she’d been then – and neither was he.

Shane must be mistaken. After all, what did he know about relationships? Sure, he’d made a few vague allusions to girls he’d known, possibly even dated, during his last year in university, but he’d never shown much interest in any of the local girls – despite Marnie’s efforts to encourage him to connect with Leah.

(“She’s not my type,” he’d said, when he arrived back after taking her some of Marnie’s goat cheese. “And I’m certainly not hers. She’s into girls.”)

*

Shane walked into the house and dumped his backpack on the floor. “What’s with all the cooking?” he asked.

“There’s a new lady moving into Darkhaven!” Jasmine ran towards him and he scooped her up for a hug. “She’s Mister Alexander’s grand-daughter!”

“Really?” Shane actually sounded vaguely interested. “Wonder if she’s like her old man?” He stalked into the kitchen. He looked tired, but recently, he always looked tired. She barely saw him: he came home from work, ate dinner with them (usually in silence, or making small jokes with Jasmine), then he would read Jasmine a bedtime story, and disappear once she was asleep. Caroline had taken great pleasure informing her that he spent almost every evening in the saloon (“You know, Harmony, if he were my son, I’d be worried that he had a drinking problem.”).

Marnie had confronted him about it once or twice, but he had just shrugged. “What else is there to do in this town?”

Marnie hoped it was because he was sweet on Emily, who worked there, but she knew that was unlikely. He was trying to drown his sorrows. Of course, she couldn’t really judge; she was pretty sure a psychologist would tell her she’d been medicating her sorrow with sex. 

*

Marnie took the eggplant Parmesan from the oven, and began to dish it into individual servings. 

“Is she bringing an army with her?” Shane asked. He leaned over and pulled a slice of eggplant out of the dish.

Marnie tapped him on the knuckles with the serving scoop. “At least use a spoon! You’re worse than Jasmine. Look, I’ll put some in a bowl for you. And no, the Mayor thought it might be a nice idea if we prepared the cottage for her.”

“And filled her fridge with food? You’re such a good Samaritan.” His lips twitched into a sneer. “Or are you just trying to keep the Mayor happy.”

She almost slapped him with the scoop.

“I wonder what she’s like?” Jasmine mused. “Is she young, is she pretty? What’s her name?”

“Isla,” Marnie replied. “Isla Alexander.”

*

“So, I met the new farm girl.” Shane set a crate of beer on the kitchen table. 

“You have?” Marnie startled. Last she’d heard, the lass has sequestered herself away like she was trying to hide from something. Heck, maybe she was. Pelican Town was a great place to just... disappear. “What’s she like?” 

“Short. Dark hair. Bit scruffy.” He said it nonchalantly, but he wouldn’t meet her eye, and sounded almost... tentative? “She gave me a parsnip,” he added, and handed her a root vegetable. Marnie was pleased – it was the first time he’d shown even the slightest interest in anyone (aside from Jasmine) since she brought him home from Zuzu. The first time he’d shown any real interest in anything. (He’d certainly shown no interest in going back to university).

Still, Isla was Roland’s grand-daughter – Rasmus’s niece – and, if the rumor-mill ran true, Oliver Alexander, her father, had also shown a dubious commitment to monogamy. Would the females of the line be any better?

As if you can talk, Marnie.

“Well, if you see her again, tell her I very much appreciate it,” was all she said in response. After all, who was she to discourage Shane on making connections? It was high time the lad made some friends.

Perhaps she should visit Rasmodius. She hadn’t seen him since Trent’s funeral. Hadn’t dared contact Marlon either. Sometimes, when she lay awake at night, cold and alone, she would pretend the warrior was lying next to her, holding her in his arms.

Silly fantasies, she scolded herself upon awakening, feeling confused and a little guilty. Like, somehow, fantasizing about literally sleeping with someone who wasn’t her husband was worse than fucking the town Mayor in the shrubbery.

Marnie watched Shane’s friendship with Isla grow with vicarious delight. His step lightened; he smiled more. It felt like he was finally coming back to life. 

It was almost as if Pelican Town was being reborn.

“I think my boy must be falling in love,” she confided to Lewis.

Lewis had regarded her solemnly, running his hand down her cheek. “Well, I hope the lad treads wary,” he replied. “There’s something a little off about Isla. Did you know she used to work for JojaCorp?”

Marnie didn’t. She’d tried hard, at first, not to like the lass, to caution Shane about her – fearing, perhaps, that she would prove as fickle in her relationships as her father, grandfather and uncle – then she’d finally met her, and felt nothing but relief. Isla never seemed ashamed of Shane, even when he’d turned up at her house, uninvited, and drunk as a lord. In fact, she’d softened the truth to protect him.

But Marnie could see there had been definite shadows in Isla’s past. Not good, given the equally deep darkness in Shane’s own.

It didn’t help that his new store manager, Morris, seemed to have some sort of link to the lass. Marnie tried not to pry, but when she found Shane lying in the barn in a puddle of his own vomit, clutching an empty bottle of whiskey, she felt obliged to intervene. “He’s fucking with my mind,” Shane admitted. He looked terrible, hungover and haggard, but there was a determined gleam in his eye. “They were married, are still married, I think. Something like that.” Then, eyes downcast, he whispered, “There was a baby.”

Something in Marnie’s heart clenched. It seemed Isla too, knew the pain of losing a child. A baby. But she had no idea how to broach the topic. 

Whether they were still legally married or not, it was clear that their relationship was over. She must have come here to escape him – like Catriona had all those years ago. And the bastard had followed her.

“If you like her, really, truly like her,” Marnie said. “And want that to move further, then you need to talk to her.”

Shane ruffled his hair and stared at his hands. “What if I fuck it up?” he whispered. “I mean, I let Mona die. I should’ve helped her... but I didn’t. And Jasmine, I mean, it shocks me, after all the crap that she’s been through: dead mother, dead father, losing her beloved poppa, and having me as her freaking legal guardian... that somehow she seems to have turned out okay.”

Marnie took his hands and squeezed them. “And what if you don’t?” she said. “You can’t hide from something wonderful just because you’re afraid it might go terribly wrong.”

He barked a rueful laugh and looked her in the eye. “Why not?” he said. “It seems to work for you.”

But was it?

Jasmine hadn’t turned out okay. She started having nightmares: restless nights, where she would wake up both of them, screaming and sobbing. Or crawled into their beds, shivering and scared, but could not quite articulate why.

“Something bad is coming,” she whispered. Shane and Marnie took turns comforting her. But neither had the answers. With so much darkness in her family history, Marnie couldn’t help but worry. 

Doctor Harvey tried to help – found nothing physically wrong with her – and recommended a child psychiatrist in Zuzu. Unfortunately, she had quite a waiting list. Marnie penciled them in for the second week of May.

Jasmine seemed better during the daylight. Having Magnus around seemed to help. Perhaps Rasmodius sent him.

She should talk to Rasmodius, he might have some answers. But what if he’s right?

What if his bloodline is cursed?

She invited Lewis over on Shane’s birthday, fairly certain he’d decline. 

He did. “I’m afraid I’m on a conference call that evening.”

Bollocks, Marnie thought. Then again, Shane would’ve hated it if he’d accepted. 

Jasmine seemed in fine fettle, and had a splendid evening playing the little match-maker. She was practically dancing in her delight at getting Isla and Shane together. The two of them did look rather adorable, casting shy glances at each other across the table, thinking they weren’t blatantly obvious.

“I told you,” Jasmine said to Marnie, in a stage whisper, helping slap the icing on the pink cake they were having for dessert. “She’s his long-lost princess. And,” she added, “she fights monsters too. I hope she gets the one that visits me at night.”

The door slammed, making them both jump. And Isla had vanished, into the darkness.

“There was a farm emergency,” Shane mumbled, his expression strained. 

Had they argued? Marnie couldn’t bring herself to ask. Magnus weaved around their ankles, ‘brrr’ing in concern, until Jasmine scooped him up and sobbed into his fur.

Shane wanted to hide in his room, but Jasmine pleaded with him, begged him to tell her a story. “Something where everyone lives happily ever after,” she said.

Marnie was heading back into the house, carrying a basket full of eggs, when she caught sight of Shane ducking across the driveway. Unshaven, heavy backpack clutched to his chest.

“Is everything okay?” she asked him. Wanted to ask What the hell happened last night? 

He nodded quickly, eyes darting shiftily. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “I’ve been called in for work. There’s an emergency.” 

“Keep warm and dry,” she cautioned him. The rain was really pouring down now, a thick drenching drizzle.

He nodded, scurried off.

It was only after he left that she realized he hadn’t been wearing a coat.

Some hours later, and Jasmine was curled up in the lounge, under a blanket. She’d had a restless night – it seemed most nights were restless now – and Marnie read her a story, and, finally, blessedly, she’d drifted off into sleep. 

Wind rattled in the trees, and the air felt oppressive, heavy – just like the dawn of that terrible storm, almost ten years ago.

“Something bad is coming,” Jasmine had said, and worry clenched Marnie’s heart in an iron grip. Her hand strayed to her phone, and she found she’d typed the first few digits of Marlon’s number.

She stopped herself. She hadn’t spoken to him in months. It felt wrong to bother him now.

You’ve pushing them all away, Marnie, she scolded herself. And why? Is it because, now, you’ve lost the comfortable shield having a husband provided? 

Or because you’re too ashamed of what you’ve become?

Screaming, from the lounge. Jasmine sat bolt upright, face contorted in terror. “The shadows have him!” she screamed.

Marnie was at her side in a heartbeat, wrapped her arms about her. Cradled her. Soothed her. “Ssssh my love,” she whispered. “My pet. It’s alright. Everything’s alright.”

“No it’s not,” Jasmine whimpered. “It’s darkness and... the prince is coming. He wants me to come away with him. But he’s a monster, Auntie. A monster. And I don’t wanna go, I don’t. I don’t!”

There came a scratching, a scrambling, and a wet plop, and suddenly Magnus was beside them: large and ginger and damp. He leaped up on the couch beside the terrified girl, purring, and nudged her with his massive furry head.

Her hands shaking, Marnie called Shane’s cell. No answer. 

Dread crushed harder on her heart. She called the JojaMart.

“I’m sorry, Shane doesn’t work today,” the voice on the end sounded disinterested.

“I know, but he said there was some sort of emergency. He left here,” she checked the time. “About five hours ago.”

“Not that I’m aware of.” A brief pause and the sound of tapping buttons. “And he has not clocked in. Perhaps you should call him on his cell?” 

“Shit,” Marnie whispered, and called Isla.

Isla was over in record time, despite the pouring rain – although it had now died to drizzle. She looked tired, and frightened, but there was an aura of determination about her. Jasmine sobbed quietly now, with Magnus curled up at her side and purring up a storm. Cats really were the best medicine.

Marnie had called Lewis as well. But he couldn’t come, he’d hurt himself somehow – how did one twist a hip? – and couldn’t, wouldn’t help. 

Marnie couldn’t quite help but resent that he wouldn’t come when she needed him.

It’s not his fault, Marnie. Accidents happen.

But Marlon always came when you called.

She considered calling Marlon now, but still can’t bring herself to do so. Why laden him further with my burdens? Hasn’t he done enough for you?

Isla called Abigail, anyway.

“She’s checking around the lake. Suggested that I check out the ‘hat mouse’? I think she means, ‘hat house’?”

The cliff, where she’d found Shane, all those years ago.

“I’m going to find him,” Isla said, kissed Jasmine on the head.

“Thank you so much for doing this, Isla.” Marnie hugged her.

Isla wiped her tear-damp eyes. “Don’t thank me until I’ve brought him home.”

And she rode into the storm.

Jasmine’s screaming had calmed to sobs and she tried to tell Marnie about her dream. It reminded her of the story of the prince in the abyss: a child born of shadows, the sacrifice of an innocence. Death and darkness.

She’d read the tale once, in Rasmus’s notebook; it sent a shiver down her spine.

A car pulled up outside.

“Uncle Marlon’s here!” Jasmine leaped from the couch and ran to answer the door.

“Jazzy!” Abigail shrieked, and the girl ran in for a hug.

It was awkward, for a few moments, when Marnie’s eyes meet Marlon’s. It had been months, and he fidgeted, uncomfortably, from foot to foot, refusing to hold her gaze.

It hurt, this distance between them.

But you built it, she thought. You let him drift away. She wanted to run to him, throw herself into his arms as exuberantly as Jasmine had to Abigail.

But instead, she said, “You came?”

“Isla messaged, Abigail was with me,” he explained, almost as though he were making an excuse. “We’ve come to get Shane.”

“He’s okay?” Marnie’s heart felt too tight in her chest.

“Isla’s found him,” Abigail replied. “He’s alive.” That didn’t really answer the question. “She’s bringing him home – we’re here to take him to the clinic.”

Hoof-beats, and Hercules trotted up the path. Isla walked beside him, steadying someone – a body? Please no! – across his back.

“Well. it’s good to see you again,” Marlon said in a low rumble, with an incline of his head. Added, “I’ve missed you.”

Then, while her heart was doing a funny little jumping lurch, he’d gone. He and Isla loaded Shane into the back of the truck and before she’d even considered saying ‘goodbye’ or ‘thank you’ or anything else, he’d driven away.

No time to feel a sense of loss or regret though, because Isla was soaked through and shivering. Abigail led Hercules off to the stable to brush him and settle him, and Marnie whisked Isla off, sending her into the shower.

“Should I have gone with him?” the lass fretted, nursing a bowl of hot soup on the couch, Jasmine curled up in her lap.

“No Isla,” Marnie consoled her, stroking Isla’s damp hair, frizzing as it dried (just like Mona’s). “Shane must find the light within himself. We can offer guidance, and support, but this is one battle he must fight alone.” She smiled down at Jasmine, her face peaceful as, finally, she slept. “Otherwise he could drag you down too.”

Late the next morning, Marnie was in the barn throwing hay to the rescue animals, when she heard a tentative knock at the barn door. Jasmine, who’d been collecting eggs in the adjoining coop, bolted out. She slept a lot better last night, with Magnus beside her. Apparently Isla called him Titus.

“The beast with many names,” she had joked, tickling his chin.

It was Marlon. 

“How’s the kid?” he asked, by way of greeting.

“I’m fine,” Jasmine replied. 

He laughed. “Glad to hear that. How’s the other kid?”

“Shane? Too much alcohol and mild hypothermia,” Marnie informed him. “Thank Yoba, Isla found him in time. He’s gonna be okay. Doctor Harvey is sending him home today.” She checked her phone. “Oh, he’s due any minute. I offered to meet him at the clinic, bring him home – but he said there was something he had to do first – someone he had to visit, more like.” She hesitated for a heart-beat then decided she owed him that much (and, oh, so much more). “Would you like to join us for lunch? See how he’s doing for yourself?”

He was about to make up an excuse, she could see it in the furrow of his forehead. But Jasmine was onto him too.

“Please!” she shrieked, and threw her arms around his waist, casting a somewhat sly glance across at Marnie. “I’d really, really, really like it if you’d stay.”

And whilst he may be able to refuse Marnie – there was no denying an excited eight-year old.

“She’s not exactly subtle, is she?” Marlon commented wryly. Jasmine had made a great show of leading them to the table and insisted that they sit down then, suddenly, decided she had super-important business to attend to in another room. And, shooting Marlon a most pointed look, left them alone.

“Yoba no,” Marnie replied. “You should’ve seen her on Shane’s birthday.” She rested her head on her hands, tried to stifle the sob. “I’m not sure what happened between them, but... gods... I hope they actually talk about it.”

“Isla seems to be a good kid,” Marlon replied. “I’m sure it’ll work out okay.”

“I wish I had your optimism,” Marnie muttered, peering up at him through her hair.

“Anyhow.” He gathered together a platter of fresh baked bread and cheese. “You might be interested to know, Abigail’s been talking to Ras. She figured out he’s her father.”

“Shit really? How’s Pierre taken it?”

“Poorly. Thought he might challenge Ras to a duel for a minute there.” He chuckled, and Marnie realized how much she’d missed the sound of it. “But I think he’d possibly always suspected. I mean, Abby is well... Let’s just say, she’s so very, very Ras.”

“A wizard?”

“Nah. Thank Yoba. She seems to favor the warrior side of her heritage. And more to the point – she actually wants to be a warrior. Which is great,” he added, “because this old body ain’t what it used to be.” He offered her a rueful smile, and traced his fingers over the scar tissue coiling along the tight muscles of his arm.

“Careful,” Marnie cautioned him, the old familiar teasing edge creeping back into her voice. Yoba, how she’d missed him – a part of her ached to run her own fingers over his scars, and she clasped her hands together. “You’re not that much older than me.” She studied him, brows raised. “Thinking about retiring from the pest control industry? What would you do?”

“Well, I’ve always fancied I might hire a ship, sail the Gem Sea. Once Abby finds her feet and all. Get away from the valley for a bit.”

“Become a real pirate?” She couldn’t ignore the hollowness in her chest, the fear that he might leave.

“Not sure I’ve the temperament for that,” he said. “But yeah, why not? Anyhow, enough about me. How are you, Marns?”

She shuddered, thought of Jasmine’s relentless screaming, and Shane drinking himself into a stupor and passing out in the rain. 

“I’m losing them, Marlon,” she whispered, choking back a sob. “Jasmine’s having nightmares... and Shane... he drinks and he mopes, and he thinks I don’t notice, but I’ve seen the empty cans. I’ve heard the rumors. He spends most evenings propping up the bar in the saloon. And when Isla came... he seemed to be getting better... but now something’s happened there: secrets and lies and whispers and some days he’s fine and other days... I’m scared I’m going to lose him too.” She sniffed back her tears, concluded, “It’s like Trent was the glue that held everything together and now he’s gone... I don’t know what to do.”

And there she went again, off-loading her problems onto him. Poor fellow. He must really be regretting he’d stayed for lunch now.

“Oh Marns,” he whispered. His voice so warm, so filled with compassion, and there she was, a snotty nose, red-faced wretch.

Very fucking attractive, Marnie.

He reached across the table, took her hands in his. His palms those of a working man, calloused and strong. She imagined what they might feel like, against her bared skin. Suffocated that thought before it could seize hold. Could not quite hide the shiver of anticipation down her spine, as he leaned towards her...

The door banged open, and they both jumped away from each other, as though they’d been caught doing something illicit.

Were they? Marnie couldn’t be sure. She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at her eyes. Couldn’t hide the redness or the puffiness, though.

“Uncle Shane!” Jasmine shrieked, her footsteps pounding across the floor.

Marnie felt a proud ache in her chest when the two of them entered the kitchen. He was still a bit pale, yes, and badly in need of a shave, but his eyes gleamed in delight. He acknowledged Marlon with a nod, and quirked one eyebrow and a knowing half-smile in Marnie’s direction; she felt her cheeks color, and stood to hug him.

“You look good,” she said. “Determined.”

He grinned at that. “Well, I’ve just done something that’ll prove either utterly foolish or totally wonderful,” he said. Paused under their curious gaze. “I took her one of Pierre’s bouquets.” 

Marnie couldn’t hold back her shriek of delight. “Oh, Shane! That’s a big step. I’m so proud of you.”

He laughed. “I’m not even sure she knows what it means – besides which, it’s clearly just some sappy, commercial bullsh– sugar,” – he cast a glance at Jasmine, who eye-balled him sternly – “And Abigail was there? Why is Abigail living with Isla? Sh–ivers,” he whispers, forehead creasing in sudden perplexity. “They’re not like... a couple, or anything, are they?”

Marlon coughed. “Well, Shane,” he said. “I think you’d better sit down – Jasmine too – because there’s something we haven’t told you, and something you should probably know. About Isla, and Abigail. And Mona.”


	43. The Flower Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The annual flower dance, a symbol of rebirth, and fresh starts.

Before he’d become so ill, Marnie and Trent had always enjoyed the flower dance. Now that he was gone, however, it filled her with sadness.

But also hope – not for herself, of course, but for the young man with so many shadows on his shoulders.

“You should wear this blue-checkered shirt.” She could hear Jasmine fussing over Shane, in his room next door. “It’ll make you look ever so handsome. And you want to look handsome for Miss Isla, don’t you?”

The thought made her smile. She’d taken him to speak with a psychiatrist in Zuzu yesterday (seemed Harvey had pulled a few strings to get Shane a last-minute appointment). He’d come out afterward smiling, so she guessed it had gone well; he’d said very little on the bus ride home, appearing deep in contemplation.

Her eyes lingered on the red and black dress. She’d been filling in time, browsing the shop windows, while Shane was at his appointment. Had cast her eye on a sale rack and seen it. It had a V-shaped neckline, and a pleated skirt, with built-in belt that rested on her hips. The geometric patterning was both striking but also flattered her larger (curvaceous, Trent had always described it) figure.

A spur of the moment purchase – after all, who was she trying to impress? Lewis? She snorted at that, it was dubious whether Lewis would even talk to her in public. 

Marlon? Well, she admitted to herself, maybe. Just a little.

The dress did suit her though. Of course, her hair was another matter entirely. She took the hairbrush, prepared to tame it into submission and ... Jasmine ran in, clutching the fairy wand Isla had given her. Her sunshine-yellow dress hung open at the back: “Zip me up Auntie! I’m Fairy Princess Buttercup!”

They walked through the woods to the flower glade. Shane, shoulders back, chin high, with more confidence than she’d ever seen in him.

“You’re looking sharp,” she said, nudging him with a grin.

“Well, duh.” He grinned back at her. “I quit Joja this morning.”

“You what?” 

“Told Morris to go...” a quick glance at Jasmine – the girl had darted off to pick flowers – then remembered who he was talking to, and gave a small cough, “...and do something indelicate to himself. It felt liberating. He tried to insist I work out my two-weeks notice, but I had a note from the shrink, saying it would be detrimental to my health, and he couldn’t argue with that. 

“Anyhow, I was wondering if that old duffer over in Grampleton still needed someone to shovel shit on his organic chicken farm?”

She could argue that she didn’t need his money (although, obviously, it certainly helped), but knew it wasn’t really about the money – Shane had to feel useful as well. “Arthur? Yoba, he’s been complaining for weeks about the youth of today, and how none have the resilience to stick around for long. You want me to give him a call tonight?”

“Please.”

Jasmine ran towards them. “Auntie, Uncle!” she shrieked. “I saw one, I saw one!” 

“Saw one what?” Shane asked, straightening her flower crown.

“A junimo! Carrying a broken branch – it’s building a nest!” She tried to point it out to them, but as much as she strained her eyes, all Marnie could see was a rustling of leaves – which could have just been the breeze.

Marnie felt a faint pang of sadness as she entered the Flower Glade. It was only opened for special occasions, and this was the first Flower Dance she’d attended since Trent’s cancer had recurred. She’d never been here without him by her side, or waiting for her. Jasmine squeezed her hands. 

“Today is a happy day,” she said. “Penny says it’s all about welcoming the summer and rebirth and...”

Fertility, Marnie finished in her head. But she could hardly be resentful of that, not with this delightful girl in her life.

Jasmine’s eight-year friend, Vincent, ran up to her, and whined, “it’s no fair, Sam says I can’t be the flower queen.”

Jasmine regarded him solemnly, then took the crown off her own head and placed it on his red curls. “Tell Sam,” she said, “that it is my decree, as Fairy Princess Buttercup, that you can be flower queen if you want. And,” she added, “that he’s just a big... nincompoop.”

“Poop,” Vincent giggled. “Come on, let’s go tell him now!” He grabbed her hand, and dragged her off, the two of them laughing like cheeky conspirators.

“I’m going to get something to eat,” Shane said. “You gonna be okay?” His confidence had begun to falter, and nerves were creeping in. 

She took his hands in hers and squeezed them. “I’ll be fine Shane,” she said. “Just remember – Isla sees you, she knows what you’re worth.” Added, “Which, just so you know, is a hell of a lot.”

His barked laugh was like music to her ears. “Thanks Auntie.” Then, he added quietly, “A wise woman once said to me: you can’t hide from something that could be wonderful, just because you’re afraid.”

“Hey, no fair,” she mock-scolded him. “Using my own words against me.”

He laughed, a twinkle in his eyes, and kissed her on the cheek. “Stop hiding,” he whispered in her ear, then strode away.

Lewis was seated near the stage, where a brightly-colored band set up their instruments. He greeted her with warmth, “Miss Marnie, always a pleasure to see you.” Dwelt a little too long on the syllables of ‘pleasure’. A carved walking stick rested across his lap. He gave her a half-shrug, “I may not be up for much dancing today, but I shall enjoy watching the young ones.” Then he half stood to whisper in her ear. “And afterward, well, we shall see... I must say, I’m very glad you wore a dress.”

She shivered in a weird mix of anticipation and disgust. Disgust at his forwardness, but more-so at herself. Why do you do this, Marnie? she wondered. It wasn’t like she particularly enjoyed the sex.

No, she realized. It was more about closeness, about the raw feeling, about forgetting her worries, her grief, everything, for a while. Which sounded suspiciously like how Shane had explained his drinking.

“They make a cute couple.” Marlon’s voice rumbled low beside Marnie’s ear, and she startled. For such a large man, he could be surprisingly stealthy. Then again, he was a hunter. “Sorry,” he added. “Didn’t meant to startle you. You look lovely today.”

Heat flared across her cheeks. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” she returned. He’d dressed as though he were attending a Renaissance Fair: in a green doublet with gold trim, a bright red cloak draped over one shoulder, and those damn tight leather trousers.

Marnie had retreated beneath the cherry tree to watch the dancers. Specifically, Shane and Isla, the latter laughing as Shane attempted to teach her the steps to some sort of very much improvised folk dance.

“They’re hopeless,” she observed with a smile. In former years, Shane had only bothered learning the so-called ‘singles’ dance, then skipped off to – when he was younger – kick a ball around with Alex, or, later, lurked around the buffet table drinking the punch. But what they lacked in skill, they definitely were making up for in enthusiasm. Isla, Marnie reflected, struck her as a lass who didn’t appear to give a damn what other people thought.

“She’s like a ray of sunlight,” Marlon mused. “Or the first spark of a fire. Like you were, Marns.”

She laughed ruefully at that, glanced again at this vibrant lass, giggling like a school-girl as Shane attempted to lead her into a twirl, then caught her when she stumbled over his badly-positioned foot. 

“I doubt I was ever like her,” she said sadly. She’d not attended a flower dance until she was married, and Trent had (metaphorically) two left feet, so they’d mostly just stood together and swayed in vague time with the music. Last year she’d been so wrapped up in mourning, and herself, that she’d avoided the event entirely.

Marlon tapped his knuckles lightly on the arm. “Well, fair maiden,” he said – making her laugh, for she was hardly the former and most definitely not the latter – and offered her his hand, palm upraised. “Would thou carest to dance?”

She shuffled her feet. “It’s for them,” she said. “The young ones.” She nodded at the dancers: at Haley and Alex, strutting about like they were trying out for Strictly Dancing (folk edition); And the others: Abigail, Sam, Penny, Emily, dancing in a circle while the two kids darted in and out of their interlocking hands.

The band stuck up a familiar opening rhythm. Marlon arched his eyebrows. “Tell me, why should the young folks have all the fun? Let’s show them that we old farts aren’t done for yet.”

Marnie laughed. “You make a compelling argument.” Besides, Robin was leading her husband, Demetrius, into the fray. “Very well then, kind sir.” She gave him a shy glance. “I accept.” Couldn’t stop an involuntary glance over at Lewis, deep in conversation with Gus. Marlon noticed; his mouth tightened, and a frown furrowed his brow, but he said nothing.

He knows, she realized. Felt the shame like a shower of icy water. Knows you’re a harlot. You don’t deserve his generosity.

Then she was hyper-aware of his hands: one on her shoulder, the other on her waist; his grip gentle, yet confident. There was something so comforting about the scent of him: leather, soap, and undeniable masculinity. The song was an energetic one, and once her feet started moving, her brain stopped worrying.

“I thought you couldn’t dance,” she said into his ear, when they paused for breath between songs.

His brow furrowed. “Why would you think that? Because of my leg? I can assure you – it only pains me when it rains.”

“You told me once, in a letter. When we were kids.”

His laughter vibrated against her throat. “It’s been years, Marns. I’ve had plenty of time to,” – he winked at her, lips twitching into a teasing grin – “acquire a few new skills.”

Then a new song began, and his hand slipped back to her waist, guided her into the rhythm.

Live for the present, Marnie.

“I missed you,” he whispered in her ear during a slower number. “The way we were. The silly letters. The mix-tapes. Your satan-worshipping room-mate.” He swept a curl back from her face, and she shivered a little beneath the feather-light brush of his finger-tips. He was so warm, so strong. So close. He swallowed hard, as though mustering courage. “I want to be with you,” he breathed in her ear.

Marnie’s heart ached, as though something were breaking in her. She trembled against his strong chest. How she wanted to give into it, take Shane’s advice – her own advice – but... she just couldn’t. He was so kind and generous and good. And all she’d ever done was take advantage of that.

“I miss you too,” she said, unable to hide the sob from her voice. “But... I can’t. I’m not the person I was, Marl. Not the person you need me to be. I’m...” she faltered, lowered her voice. “Your sister was right, I’m a whore and a harlot and...” She sobbed out the words without even thinking, “You were my best friend. And I love you. But you deserve so much better.”

She wrenched herself from his grasp before he could stop her, although a part of her was disappointed when he didn’t even try.

*

Later, alone in a quiet house, Marnie let the tears fall. 

She’d hidden the ache in her heart from Shane, when the dancing had ended and he’d approached her. “Are you okay to watch Jasmine this evening? Isla’s... invited me over.”

She’d laughed, delighted at the path his life was taking. “Be careful,” she said, and hugged him.

He’d barked a laugh at that. “Shit Auntie.” Ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone. I, I think I might be falling in love with her. It’s f– forking terrifying.” 

“I know,” she replied. I hid behind my relationship with Trent for twenty-five years. Loved him and watched him die.

Is that what you’re afraid of, Marnie?

Losing someone else you love?

Jasmine had been surprisingly forgiving of Shane not reading her a bedtime story.

“He has stuff he needs to talk about with Isla,” she’d said, sounding way more mature than an almost-nine year old should. “Will you read a story with me?” She’d chosen ‘The Secret Garden’. Marnie wasn’t sure if it were coincidence or intentional – the lass was canny – but the theme of regrowth struck a chord.

Was she afraid of dying? Or afraid of living?

Unable to settle, Marnie busied herself by rummaging through the pantry. At the back, found a bottle of wine gathering dust. A gift from Trent, for their twentieth anniversary. She studied the bottle. Cactus Wine, a sweet desert wine from Calico, and decanted herself a glass. If alcohol had worked for Shane, perhaps it would work for her too.

She downed one, savoring the taste, sweet with undertones of warm heat. Drew herself another.

She was most of the way through a third, a few hours later, when a quiet tap at her door made her heart leap.

Marlon? 

No. Lewis. He leaned heavily on his cane, and had a hungry, eager gleam in his eye that turned to disappointment when he saw her wearing sweatpants and a flannel shirt.

“Hello Marnie,” he said. “I wish you had lingered longer after the dance.” He sighed. “You’ve changed out of the dress I see. Pity, I was looking forward to pushing it up around your waist.” He stepped forward, tongue darting out to moisten his lips.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said, the alcohol loosening her tongue, giving her false courage. She flinched when his hand brushed her cheek; his palms were so soft, like he’d hardly done a day’s worth of manual labor in his life.

“Oh, my dear,” he soothed, tone low, conciliatory. The lightest brush of his finger took a tear from the corner of her eye. “Has someone upset you.”

She swallowed. The world felt a little fuzzy around the edges. But she wasn’t drunk, was she? Maybe a little tipsy... “You have, Mayor Lewis. I’m sick of hiding our relationship. And I’m sick of... rutting in the bushes like wild animals.”

He stepped closer, and she tried to take a step back, but her office counter was behind her, pressed up against her buttocks.

“You don’t mean that,” he said. And it wasn’t a question. “You’re drunk.”

She nodded fervently. “Yes,” she said. “I am, and I do. It’s over Mister Mayor.” She tapped him on the nose like she was scolding an over-enthusiastic cow. “No more nookie for you.”

His mustache tickled her nose when he leaned in for a kiss. “So, this is the new game you’re playing then, is it?”

She jerked her head back. “No!” Had to pause, clutch the counter to steady her balance.

“Oh, I get it.” His smile turns sly. “You’ve found yourself a new lover, haven’t you? The warrior, our swash-buckling, piratical hero. Been reading too many of those foolish romances. Waiting for him to ride up on his white horse and whisk you away?”

She swallowed hard, took a deep breath. Courage Marnie, courage. “No,” she said, enunciating the words carefully. “I’ve been think-thinking, Lewis. And I’m sick of this. Of us. I’m sick of shagging in the bushes. Of having to hide us – if you can even call us an us – from the town, like I’m... I’m your dirty secret. And some-something to be ashamed of. I’m sick of you dropping by to discuss ‘finances’ and tax cuts and ‘inv-investment opportunities’ like you’re paying me for my ‘services’ with favors. ” She made the quote marks with her fingers. Damn, she sounded like a complete bitch. A drunk bitch. “Like we’ve got some sort of shady business deal going on. And I’ve got questions too: why did you sell the school to JojaMart? What possible use does a mega-corporation have for a tiny nowhere town like Pelican Town? And why, after ten years, is the community center still fucked?”

Lewis stared at her, aghast. He shook his head, and unleashed a long-suffering groan. “Oh Marnie,” he whispered. “Well, I can see you’ve had more than enough to drink. I’ll come back later. See if you’ve returned to your senses by then.” He reached out, traced her chin with his hand, down her neck towards her cleavage. “I don’t suppose you’d consider one last ride for the road?”

She shook her head and attempted to swat his hand away. Missed. “No.”

He stepped away, his eyes hard and cold. Gave another small, sad shake of his head, as though he were despairing at the sight of her. “Oh Marnie,” he whispered, and left. 

She staggered back, steadied her balance with a hand on the counter. Felt an odd mix of power, but also a faint flutter of unease. 

Why had that felt too easy?


	44. Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't had any comments for the last few chapter uploads, and we're nearing the end, so I'm a wee bit worried my audience has gotten bored; it is a long story. But it's almost over.
> 
> I might just upload the rest of it tonight.

5th May 2019

“So, my kind, generous, noble and heroic uncle isn’t good enough for you then?” Abigail declared, barging through the barn doors and charged across the floor like she was on the warpath.

Marnie stopped scratching Belinda, their latest rescue cow, and stared at her. “I never said that. I said, he deserved better than me.”

“Shouldn’t he be the judge of that? I mean, he clearly thinks you’re good enough for him.” Abigail leaned on the railing and fished a cave carrot out of her pocket. “Would you ever let Shane tell you he wasn’t good enough for Isla?”

“Well, no.” Marnie admitted. “He’s got issues, but he’s working through them.” She was so very, very proud of the lad.

“So, what’s the problem then?” Belinda lipped the carrot from Abigail’s fingers and skipped away. “Is it because you’re boning the Mayor?”

“What?” Marnie tried to feign shocked surprise, but failed miserably. “I’m not!” Not anymore. She’d woken up the day after the Flower Festival with a migraine and a sour echo of the night before in her mouth. Vaguely remembered breaking off their ‘arrangement’. She was fairly certain he’d said he’d drop by but, it had been over a week, and so far, much to her relief, she hadn’t seen him.

“Oh please,” Abigail said. “It’s like the worst-kept secret in town. Emily says you guys are super-cozy in the saloon, practically every other night.”

“We’re discussing important business mat–”

Abigail held up her hand. “Don’t give me that BS. Besides, Sam saw you both sneaking away from the playground a couple of weeks back, looking rumpled. So, most importantly, do you love the old bugger?”

“No,” she whispered. “I mean, I admired him at first. Respected him. But... now I just feel like his cheap whore. His, what’s that modern term?”

“Booty call,” Abigail finished. “And there ain’t nothing wrong with being someone’s booty call, as long as it’s what both parties want. But it isn’t what you want, is it, Marnie?” Dang, the girl was sharp – and direct; she’d make an excellent inquisitor.

“I don’t know what I want. What I deserve.” Marnie left Belinda’s side, and moved on to check the horses. They’d been emaciated when they’d come in, a few weeks ago, but were looking much plumper now. The largest one, a beautiful chestnut mare that Jasmine had named Rosie, came over to sniff at Abigail’s hair.

“Well, I know what you deserve,” Abigail persisted. “You deserve someone who’ll appreciate you. Who will care for you. Talk to you for all hours of the night about everything from super-important shit to meaningless nonsense. Marnie, you’re one of the kindest and most caring people I know. You took in orphans, raised them as if they were your own. And look,” she waved her hand at the interior of the barn. “You’ve got a freaking one-eyed cow, a three-legged sheep, a pig the size of a Yoba-blessed tank, and two dozen bad-tempered goats. If you can love a freaking half-ton cow, surely you can love my lame, half-blind uncle. He makes good coffee too,” she added. “Anyway, he wanted me to give you this.” Abigail handed her the envelope with a flourish.

Marnie recognized the shape of it. Unwrapped it and held the contents up for Abigail’s curious gaze.

“What is it?” the girl asked.

“It’s a cassette tape,” Marnie said. Felt her heart sink – was he returning it to her? Rejecting their friendship, as she’d rejected him.

“A what-now?”

Marnie gave a shaky laugh. “Old tech,” she said. “Music.” No, this wasn’t one of hers. No slipcase, no label, not even a note.

“Oh right, so that’s what he’s been up to.” She laughed. “I told him he could just send you a Lyricity playlist. But he said that wasn’t the point. Can you even play the thing?”

Marnie nodded. “Yes.”

“Can I listen?”

“No.”

*

It didn’t feel right to play the cassette straight away. But she sent a quick text message to thank him for it. No response, but an hour later, the text bounced back, with the message: Sorry this number is temporarily out of range. Please try again later.

The cellular reception within Stardew Valley was dicey at best, but Marnie could not help but feel the faintest tremor of unease.

She tried dialing it, but received the same message – this time dictated to her in a robotic voice.

“There’s been a slime outbreak in the caverns,” Abigail informed her, when she phoned the Adventurer’s Guild. “Isla and I have been helping him clear it out. I’m sure he’ll be back tonight.” She didn’t sound particularly concerned.

Just busy doing his job Marnie, she consoled herself. Protecting the Valley.

That night, after Jasmine had gone to bed and Shane had dropped back to Isla’s, she’d shut herself in her room, fished out the old boom box and sobbed her way through the cassette tape. It started with ‘Prisoner’, obviously. Followed it up with a series of equally sappy and lovelorn songs, intermingled with a few sillier ones. Marnie sat on her bed, hugging one of Jasmine’s plush toys to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks.

She’d known of course, deep down inside that the song, like the postcards, held deeper significance. And there, definitely, wasn’t any denying that, like the lyrics suggested, he’d done almost anything for her. But what did she have to offer him?

He’d ended the mix-tape with ‘Patience’. Which made her laugh – in a sad, sobbing kind of way.

There was a text waiting for her the next morning:

Hope u enjoy it. Survived mines 2day – back again 2morrow. Hope 2CU soon. Talk? M xo

*

10th May 2019

The morning of Jas’s appointment rolled around. Marnie sat at the table, drinking coffee. She was beginning to feel like there was more caffeine in her veins than blood. Too many sleepless nights, lying awake waiting for Jasmine to start screaming. To run in and crawl into bed with her.

“He’s waiting for me, Auntie, when I close my eyes.”

Yoba, please let the specialist be able to help us.

The anniversary of Mona’s death loomed oppressive and heavy on the horizon. 

Shane walked with them to the bus stop, Jasmine hugging Rainbow the unicorn. 

“Now,” Shane said, kneeling down to her eye level. “You’re going to talk to someone who knows a lot about helping people.”

“A doctor?”

“Yes,” he said. “But a special kind of doctor. Doctor Harvey helps with things that are wrong with your physical body – like when you skinned your knee falling off your bicycle.”

“I didn’t need a doctor for that,” she said. “I just needed a band aid.”

“True. Well, Doctor Blackwell helps with the things that make your mind hurt. Like bad dreams, or when your sadness gets so bad that you don’t want to do anything anymore. But, she isn’t a mind-reader, so you need to answer all her questions and not try and be strong and hide them. Understand?”

Marnie wondered how hard it must’ve been for him, to learn to release some of the darkness he’d kept under tight rein.

“Understand,” she said. ‘I’m to be honest, not brave.”

“Not quite.” Shane hugged her and kissed her on the forehead. “Sometimes the bravest thing to do is be honest.”

The bus drew up, and they clambered in, Jasmine claiming the window seat, Marnie beside her. Shane rode with them as far as Grampleton, leaning over the back of his seat to play I-spy with Jasmine.

Doctor Blackwell seemed a pleasant woman, in her mid-thirties. She introduced herself to both of them – and Rainbow as well – and chatted with Jasmine for a while, then suggested that Marnie might like to get herself a cup of tea, while she spoke with Jasmine alone.

“Is that okay, petal?” Marnie asked.

“Yes,” Jasmine replied. “Rainbow likes her.”

It had been a fairly restless cup of tea, and when she came back in, Jasmine and the doctor were discussing the dark prince, in his haunted castle. Jasmine had sketched a horrible gaunt figure, behind him a jagged tree.

“He’s lonely,” she said. “He wants me to come and keep him company. I want to help him – but his castle is dark and cold and scary. And it’s underground. I don’t wanna live underground.”

“Nightmares are not uncommon in children her age,” the psychiatrist informed Marnie in private. “Especially given her recent bereavement. It is possible this dark prince is a mental manifestation of death. We need to focus on maintaining a routine, and work on a few techniques to relief and relax her mind before sleep. But, most importantly, you need to keep up open communication about what is bothering her. Sometimes talking about the monsters in our mind can help us fight them.” 

They’d gone shopping afterward, and Jasmine selected a nightlight shaped like a rabbit, and a large plush cat that bore a striking resemblance to Magnus.

“What can we do to help him – the dark prince?” Marnie asked her on the bus trip home. “Do you think we could get him to come out of the shadows?”

“He doesn’t like the sunlight,” Jasmine answered. “But... maybe we could get him to come out at night, and see the stars? I think... I think he would like the stars.”

They visited an electronics warehouse and, while Jasmine played with an interactive demo robot, Marnie attempted to find a blank cassette tape. It had proved an exercise in futility.

“You could try the Charity Bin store down the way,” the sales clerk had suggested. “They sometimes have that retro junk.”

Whilst the use of the word ‘junk’ had grated, he’d been right – she found a box of pre-recorded ones in a charity shop, and stuck tape over the tabs at the top.

That night, after reading Enid Blyton to Jasmine (The Faraway Tree might be a little cloying, but hopefully it wouldn’t encourage the nightmares), she spent hours on Lyricity seeking tracks that said what she wanted to say to Marlon. Now, all she had to do was figure out how to transfer them onto the cassette.

They’d exchanged texts sporadically. He seemed to be spending a lot of time in the caves.

Too much time.

I’m worried about you. Pls look after yourself. Marn Xo

*

13th May 2019

An early morning knock at the door. 

“Uncle Lewis!” Jasmine shrieked, running out to greet the Mayor (everyone over the age of thirty was automatically labeled ‘uncle’ or ‘auntie’ as far as Jasmine was concerned). “Look at my new bunny-jewel slippers! Shane bought them in Zuzu!”

“Yes,” he said, sounding a little distracted. “Very sparkly.”

Marnie approached him with trepidation. She hadn’t seen him since she’d rejected him. Was there a reason he’d chosen to visit today? 

“Hello Mayor,” she said, in her most proper tone of voice.

“Good morning Miss Marnie,” he replied (even though she’d been married, he’d reverted her back to Miss as soon as she was widowed, as if her twenty-five years with Trent were of little import). “I was wondering if you had taken time to reconsider renewing our arrangement.” 

Jasmine watched with wide, curious eyes.

“I have taken it into consideration,” she said. “But the answer is still ‘No’.”

“I’m very disappointed in that,” he replied, and drew a slip of paper from the folder beneath his arm. “Well, here is the latest bill for your property tax.” She glanced at it. Then glanced again. 

“Had there been some sort of mistake?” she asked. “This seems somewhat higher than previous installments.” She attempted to glare him down, but he was having none of that, and held her gaze with cool, calm assurance.

“Last time you received a substantial discount,” he said. “But alas, you have recently forfeited your claim to it.”

“This is almost twice as much as 2017,” she pointed out.

He’d merely shrugged. “Inflation. It appears that the presence of a JojaMart has increased property values, and therefore taxes.”

“Well,” Marnie replied, trying to keep the panic from rising in her voice. We’ll be fine, I can pay this. Thank Yoba for life insurance. “I know that I, for one, would like to know where in the community my money is being invested.”

“I’m afraid I’m not currently privy to that information,” he replied smoothly. “Although the financial report shall be filed appropriately and available from next month. And,” his tongue darted out to moisten her lips, “the offer still stands for you to renew our prior arrangement.”

“No,” she replied more firmly, and wished she could shove him out of her house.

“So it’s like that then,” he said. “Well, I hope that you’re happy now, Miss Marnie. And, isn’t it a shame that your special friend, is so occupied in the caves. But the Void seems so very unsettled of late. I do hope nothing foul befalls him.”

He’d left then, leaving her shaken and afraid. 

“Why are you mad at Uncle Lewis?” Jasmine asked after she’d left. “Have you and he had a fight?”

“Not exactly,” Marnie replied. “But we’ve decided we’re not friends anymore.”

She called Isla later in that day, asked, “Are you able to put me in touch with your lawyer? I think I’m being extorted.”

“I’m not sure how much of a case we can build for extortion.” The lawyer came across as cold and practical. “But, if what you say is true, then we may well have a case for malfeasance in office.” She heard fingers clicking on the keyboard. “Would you like to pursue this course of action? I shall warn you – it will not be easy. And I do not come cheap.”

Marnie hesitated. It would be his word against hers – and he had far more charisma, influence and external support, including the creeping tentacles of JojaCorp. Did she really want to open that can of worms? “I’d like to think about it,” she said. “Can I get back to you?”

14 May 2019

“What a bastard,” Rasmodius said. “Shall I curse him for you?”

“Could you?” Sounding way too eager there, Marnie, she scolded herself.

Rasmodius chuckled. “Well, I could probably inflict him with an unfortunate rash, if you wished. Anyway, it’s good to see you again, Marn.”

“Likewise. Hey, Jasmine said you spoke to her. Had a change of mind there, grandad?”

He snorted at that. “I feel far too young for that title. And she’s more your kid than mine. But, well, it seems my niece was just the injection of life the valley needed. And Abigail... holy Yoba, she’s a fierce little spitfire.”

“Takes after her father.” Marnie grinned at him. Then added, “and probably her mother too. Yoba help us.”

“I wonder what our son would have been like,” he said softly. Marnie pondered this frequently, especially at this time of year, when she remembered how he’d felt, alive inside her. Her hand went subconsciously to her belly. “He’d have been a cunning wee bugger,” she said, “no doubt. Keeping us on our toes and sending us gray before our time. Wouldn’t expect anything less with you as his father.”

“Ay,” Rasmodius chuckled, and opened his arms so she could rest her head against his chest. “But with you as his mother, and Trent raising him, well, he probably would’ve turned out pretty damn awesome”

“Do you think Trent knew? He confessed, before he died, that he thought he was sterile.”

Rasmodius kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair. Her feelings for him were still complicated, but no longer tangled with the raw heat of lust. “It wouldn’t have mattered,” he said. “He was a good man, Trent. If I could choose the man who would raise my son, I would’ve chosen him.”

“Definitely not Pierre then?”

“Fuck no. Guy’s a prat. And definitely not myself. So, you given Marl an answer yet?” He dropped it in casually, like it wasn’t an abrupt segue from the conversation.

She stiffened. “You know?”

“Shit Marn, I’ve known how he felt about you for thirty goddamn years. Give or take. Have to say, he’s one of the most forgiving and patient people I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting. Put up with my shit for years. So, you gonna give him a chance?”

“Yes. No. I dunno.” Marnie muttered. “I can’t even talk to him at the moment – he’s either avoiding me or in the caves every day. If I go to bed early, he’ll text me, but if I stay up late, he won’t. It’s freaking maddening.” She paused and stared at him. “Why aren’t you in the caves with him? Wizard, warrior, brotherhood, right?”

Rasmodius shuffled his feet. “Blame our honorable Mayor for that,” he said, sarcasm dripping. “He’s told me the Purification Project must be my top priority. Apparently JojaCorp are eager to re-open up the mines, but there’s the pesky problem of all the damn monsters to deal to first. And those bloody slimes...”

“You can purify those?”

“Not sure yet. We’ve only figured out how to get it to work on bats. But,” he fastened Marnie with his gaze, “your blood was the catalyst – like only a tiny drop of it synthesized something in mine. Sorry, I never told you. Shit, it seems, magically, Ben would’ve been a force to be reckoned with.”

Silence, as Marnie imagined a dark-haired young man – he’d be mid-twenties by now – how different their lives might have been, had he lived. Mona’s half-brother.

“Well, we can’t do anything to change the past,” Rasmodius said pragmatically. She could sense the loss, the grief in him. “We need to focus on the present.” He leaned down, to breathe in Marnie’s ear. “Go and get your warrior.” 

*

15th May 2019

RU home 2night? Kids out. House MT. Would U like 2 come over? - Marn XO

She stared at the message, deleted and retyped part of it several times. Seriously Marnie, you’re an adult. What’s the worst that can happen?

She hit “SEND”

What if he says “no”. What if he’s busy... and you think he’s saying “no”... but he’s actually just really busy.

Spent four anxious minutes staring at the phone. Berated herself, He could be in the mines and not see it for hours. Stop staring at it, a watched phone never rings. 

She went to put the kettle on, just to give herself something to do.

The phone buzzed, and she pounced on it so fast she almost sent it spinning to the floor. Almost couldn’t bear to look at it.

Wld love 2. What time U want me? M xo

Now, she thought, and Always. 

Typed instead: 6? Come 4 Dinner? Marn xo

CU then. Lking forward to it. M xo

Shit, now what to cook?


	45. Wish Fulfillment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains mature themes.

Marnie couldn’t stop glancing at the clock. Six came, and went, with no sign of Marlon.

Had he changed his mind? Got cold feet?

Was he lying broken and bleeding in the mines?

Fuck, what was she getting herself into?

But you’d worry even if you were just friends, her brain reminded her. 

Checked her phone again. No message.

Six-thirty.

He’s not coming, she thought and slumped down in her chair. Dinner had been sitting in the oven for an extra half hour. It was bound to be ruined. Should she text him?

The knock at the door almost made her jump out of her skin.

“Marlon,” she all but sighed in relief at the sight of him. Felt the tight crushing tautness in her chest turn to fluttering butterflies. Dammit, he was in his warrior armor: tight leather that clung to every muscle. That, coupled with the cloak and eye-patch made him look like a sexy bondage-pirate.

“Marnie,” he replied, his eye twinkling. “Sorry I’m late. I stopped by the general store to pick up a gift for the hostess.” He passed her a bottle of wine. “I hope you like coconut wine.” 

“Thank you.” She helped him take off his cloak, and he removed his weapon belt, draping it over the coat stand, which allowed her ample opportunity to admire the way his leather pants hugged his buttocks. Yep, all muscle, all the way.

“Sorry I failed to contact you,” he added, turning back towards her. “I appear to have misplaced my phone.” 

“Well, you’re here now,” she replied then, daringly, kissed him on the cheek and gave him a quick hug. “So, I’ll forgive you. Dinner, however, might not.” She scurried off to save it from the oven. “Wine?”

“Please.”

“You make a delicious shepherd’s pie.” Marlon set down his cutlery and leaning back in his chair. He must’ve been hungry; he’d demolished almost every bite.

“Trent used to call it compassionate shepherd’s pie,” she remarked, then mentally berated herself for bringing up the memory of her late husband. “Because no sheep died for it.” She risked a shy glance. He’d trimmed his beard again, although his hair was still wild, and he looked tired. If what Lewis had implied was true, he must be spending most of his time in the mines. “Did you listen to the tape I sent you?” 

The smile he gave her was somehow both lazy and a little smug. “Oh, yes,” he said. “Some were, let me say, somewhat less than subtle.” He gave a small cough. “That, err ‘For You’ one?”

Her pulse raced. She stood up to clear the plates from the table. She’d hardly eaten hers, body so a-flutter that her appetite had fled, replaced with nervous nausea. Set an upturned plate atop it, and slid it into the fridge for later.

“I will be there for you,” he sung, voice low and sexy. He stepped up behind her, and she shivered in delicious anticipation at his heat, the raw masculinity of him. At his hands, large and strong, on her shoulders. One hand slid them down, touch feather light, to ease the dirty plate from her (now very) shaky grip. 

“All I want is you.” His husky voice, vibrated in her ear. Lips warm and soft, the tickle of his mustache; he planted a delicate butterfly kiss behind her ear.

She swallowed down her heart, racing in her throat. One hand on hers, the other on her shoulder, he turned her towards him, pressed her hand to his chest. Damn, he smelled good, like leather and fresh pine. Her pulse, a wild tempo, raced against the pace of his heart. His fingers traced her cheek, drawing her chin up to meet his eye. Gaze intense, pupil dilated.

“How long?” she whispered. How long have I been feigning ignorance, too afraid to admit the truth? 

He gave a low chuckle that vibrated through his chest, and took a step back, her hands in his. “Forever and always,” he replied. “From that day when you marched up to us – to me, Rasmus, Jasper – and asked to join in our game. Well, I think we all fell a little in love with you over that summer.”

“Shit, really? Even Jasper?” She wasn’t sure why she followed this thought, maybe because her chest felt full of butterflies and her tongue had run away on her.

“Indeed, even Jasper.” He didn’t seem offended at her reaction. “Of course, he got over his crush pretty quick – especially once he met Emma. But, you know what? If you hadn’t spent those two months hanging out with us, he’d never have picked up the courage to talk to her. You were the heart of our group, Marnie – and we hadn’t even know how much we needed you.”

“And to think I was so blind, for so long...” Marnie took his hand in hers, traced her finger across his palm. It was calloused and scarred from years of wielding a sword, from protecting the Valley from monsters. From him being a hero.

He gave her a half-smile that stabbed straight to her heart. “You were almost charmingly naive.” His fingers entwined with hers. “Yet also frustratingly oblivious. We were geeky fifteen-year old boys, girls barely even looked at us – well, except, I suppose, for Rasmus – and the few girls we did know we’d known since we were in kindergarten. Suddenly there’s this new girl, and sure, she’s a bit skinny, but she actually seems interested in what we’re doing and is happy to argue with us, and treat us like we’re normal people.”

“There’s no such thing as normal,” she said. “We’re all unique.”

His laugh deep, heartfelt. “Is that something you used to tell the kids?”

“All the time,” she replies. “Jasper Junior was the worst. The poor kid.” She shook her head. Focus Marnie. “Where do we go from here?”

“We,” Marlon smiled at her, tentatively. “Would you, maybe, like to see if ‘us’ can work?”

“Us? Oh Yoba. I was such a … such dumbass.” He chuckled at that, and there was an ache in her heart, a deep, desperate longing. “All those silly, sappy postcards? They were real, weren’t they? That’s how you felt about me, all this damned time?”

He leaned forward, pressed his forehead against hers, and she found herself gazing into his storm-cloud eye. “Yes,” he said simply. “We were all a little bit in love with you, but I had it the worst.” He groaned, traced the back of her hands with his thumbs. “And, when the others moved on, I just… couldn’t. Wouldn’t.” A dry laugh. “I guess I’m stubborn like that. All the time, everyone kept telling me I had to learn patience – they never realized just how damned patient I was being. Shit Marns, it killed me when you hooked up with Rasmus. Especially since he treated you like dirt. At least Trent treated you like a princess.” He pressed a kiss against her knuckles. “I loved that you were happy, but hated that it wasn’t because of me. And as for Lewis...”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Tears trickled down her cheeks, dripped onto their joined hands.

“Please don’t cry.” His lips were delicate on her cheeks, not so much kissing her tears as breathing them. 

“I can’t help it,” she said. “I never threw them out, you know. The postcards. Not even ‘Ode’.” She laughed. “Was that one true?”

He pressed his head against hers, his chuckle a low rumble. “That one was, perhaps, the truest one of all. Oh, the things I wanted – no, want – to do to you. With you. And I had a very active imagination.” 

A delicious shiver passed through her. She’d read that card too many times, fantasized the words. Her breath felt short, and nerves fluttered in her chest. “They’re in a box, at the back of the closet. Sometimes, before Trent, I used to pretend that they were real – that someone could really, truly love me, and it wasn’t just a silly game. They were beneath my bed, once. Then Mona found them, which was super-awkward. Try explaining erotic poetry to a precocious eleven-year old girl.”

“It was never a game.” Marlon’s hand drew free of their grip, and traced her face. His touch light, although his hands were those of a man who had worked hard. He touched her like she was a person to be cherished, not a woman headed into her middle age, with gray streaks in her hair. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered against her lips. “Thirty years, I’ve wanted to kiss you. Thirty years, I’ve dreamed of holding you in my arms. So, what do you say?”

Her heart took flight, swooped and soared. She felt like that fifteen-year old girl again, experiencing her first kiss, except it wasn’t Rasmus – but Marlon, her oldest, dearest friend.

They were so close, all but touching. Impossible not to brush her lips against his, a tentative query. He leaned into her, hungry with need – with want – yet still somehow hesitant. As though he couldn’t believe that she was here with him. His teeth traced her lower lip, and the electric stab of it made her moan. It would almost be embarrassing, yet somehow, it wasn’t. Because it was him. Marlon.

He broke the kiss, drew back. “Is that a ‘yes’, then?” His eye bright, dancing with mischief and delight.

“It’s a ‘yes’,” she returned, laughing.

He pulled her to him, crushing her breasts against his chest. His kiss raw, and rough. Greedy with lust; it shuddered through him, a desperate hunger.

The fortune teller had said, all those years ago, that she’d never experience passionate love. But if this burning heat, this want, this almost desperate need for him to touch her, to hold her, to have her wasn’t passion, then she didn’t know what was.

She’d never believed in fortune telling anyway.

He lifted her up on the table, the wood hard unyielding beneath her. She became vaguely aware of her skirt being pushed aside, and his rough, yet gentle, hand ran up her thigh. “I want you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. “If you’ll ... have me?”

She could barely formulate a response. Managed to croak out a, “Yes. Please.” And was a little embarrassed at how desperate she sounded. His fingers tangled in her underwear, tugged it aside, his fingers stroking closer, and closer. Closer to the burning ache deep in her core.

His mouth on hers again, kissing, nibbling, tongue gently probing between her lips. He moaned against her, plunged his fingers inside her. Their touch like electric fire. Her hand tangled in his hair, pulled him closer, trapping his face against hers. She managed to fumble the underwear down her leg, kick it to the floor. Then his palm was massaging her labia, fingers probing, quick and nimble. There was something building, deep inside her, like an explosion. A supernova.

She came in a gasping moan. Intense: like being torn apart, and put back together again. He laughed against her lips, amused at being able to play her so damned well. His fingers were remorseless, plunging back in to tease another orgasm out of her, leaving her breathless and gasping. Part of her wanting more, the other part worried that if he didn’t stop, she might just die from pleasure. He brought both hands to her face, cradled the back of her head with his hands.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Love you. Need you. Worship you.” And he said it so easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “No,” he added, pressing his finger to her lips. “I don’t need you to say it back, not yet, not just because you feel you should.”

Her heart ached. The thought that he might cherish her like this, and not imagine she could ever feel the same way back. That she might feel obliged to echo his words, but not mean them.

“I’ve never been a liar,” she whispered, blinking back tears, but she wasn’t sure if they were tears of sorrow, or from the sheer intensity of pleasure. He drew back, knelt on the floor, his hands on her hips. She braced herself up on her elbows, gazed down upon him, that feral gleam in his single eye, pupil dilated with lust. Oh, how wicked his smile was. Then her skirt was hiked up around her waist, and his fingers were on her, spreading open the petals of her labia, tongue darting quick to sample her nectar. She moaned, jerked with the electric intensity, and banged her elbow on the table. “Shit.”

He stopped. A hesitant, “Are you alright?”

She managed a shaky laugh. “I’m fine, but well, don’t you think the bed would be softer?” Was amazed she could even form a coherent sentence. 

He stood, drew her into his arms again. “I could carry you, if you like.”

“I can walk,” she said. Yoba, at this point, she almost felt like she could fly. She couldn’t drag him into the bedroom fast enough. Didn’t bother to close the door – it’s not like there was anyone here to walk in on them.

And you almost had sex on the dining room table, the little voice in her head teased. You harlot.

She laughed, mentally told the little voice to shut up. I’m forty-six years old and it’s my house. I can have sex anywhere I damn well please.

She kicked off her skirt, and seated herself on the bed. Was about to take her blouse off too, when Marlon’s hands closed on her wrists. “Please,” he whispered. “May I?” It seemed oddly intimate – even though he’d fingered her in the kitchen – to let him undo the far too many buttons and slide the blouse open. His arms encircled her, fumbling with the clasp of her bra, drawing the cups free. He cradled a breast in each hand and traced the curve of one with his thumb, leaned down to press a delicate kiss against her nipple. They were already taut, her nerves tight-strung wires – if they were plucked the right way, she would either explode or dissolve. His lips closed about the nipple, teeth brushing against it so very, very gently. She sighed, arched into him. One hand traced down, to rest on her belly. She lay before him, skyclad, and realized he was still fully clothed. Her fingers fumbled awkwardly on the zip of the leather shirt. Marlon flung it aside, then tugged his undershirt over his head, and stood before her bare-chested and glorious. Muscles lean and taut, stomach flat. Scars and tattoos covered his chest; his whole body told a story. A phoenix rose across his right breast, a trail of stars framed his left. There was a large white slash of puckered skin just above his belly. His chest hair so blond, it was almost white. He held his arms open, as if to say, “This is me, take me or leave me, as you wish.”

Marnie grabbed his wrist, drew him onto the bed with her. His leather-clad thighs straddling her. He was pure muscle, hardly any fat on him. Her fingers traced the lean curvature of his chest, tracked their way down the scar.

“Remember that day? When the Void spirit almost gutted me,” he said. “The day I almost lost my eye.”

“I thought we were going to lose you.” She shuddered, blinked back tears. “Wait, almost?” 

“Almost.” He nodded, leaned towards her, and flicked his fingers under the straps of the eye-patch, then drew it off.

Her heart kicked sharp in her chest, and she couldn’t stifle a gasp. Beneath the eye patch, the flesh was a grotesque mess of skin both puckered and smooth, like it had been melted and reformed wrong, but the eye that studied her from beneath the swollen eyelids was completely, utterly, perfect. The iris was a mix of gray and gold, with a hint of green. It glinted with lust and a hint of humor, just like its twin.

“Why wear an eye-patch?” She leaned forward, and kissed the puckered flesh surrounding it.

He let out a deep sigh. “Because not everyone is as accepting as you, Marnie. My dearest. My love.” A kiss with each endearment. “They see the deformity, they think ‘monster’. I guess, I just didn’t want people to stare.” He blinked away a tear from his unscarred eye. “It is not perfect,” he said. “For it can no longer cry. I am not perfect. I am scarred, and burned, and old – but not that old, I think. And I am yours, if you will have me?” He leaned into her, kissed her forehead. “And I promise you, that I will never try to hide our love. Yoba, I would crow it from the roof-tops, were you to permit it.” He kissed away the tears that dampened her cheeks.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I want you. All of you. Now and forever.”

“Forever is a very long time,” he returned.

She laughed wryly. “We’ve wasted thirty years already. Let’s not waste another minute.”

He laughed heartily against her throat. Stood and unzipped his pants, slid them down his legs, and kicked them under the bed. He was all muscle and raw heat, cock straining hot and hard against his jockeys. He straddled her again. Pinned her between his thighs. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, kissing away her tears. “Body. Heart. Soul. And I want to make you writhe and gasp and scream.” He sunk down from the bed, onto his knees, and parted her again with his fingers. His tongue was nimble, teeth careful against her delicate skin, fingers touching, teasing. He plucked her and played her until her senses screamed and fireworks flashed behind her eyes. She arched her back, cried his name.

“Marlon!” Ended it in a whimper.

He was wonderful and merciless. Her fingers clawed into the sheets, her toes curling. Left her whimpering and moaning and trying to remember how to breathe.

“I want you,” she whispered. “I want you inside me.” Oh, how she ached for him.

“Soon,” he whispered. “I’m not done yet.” He nuzzled her belly button and kissed his way up her body, paused to taste each nipple, then found her lips. One hand still between her thighs, sending darting currents up and down her body. She gasped against him. “For the love of Yoba,” she breathed. “Are you trying to kill me from pleasure.”

“Just showing you what you’ve been missing,” Marlon purred in her ear. “Showing you what ‘making love’, really means.” Knelt across her chest. He’d shed his jockeys, and his cock throbbed above her belly. She reached forward, wrapped her hand around the silken length of him. A shudder passed through his entire body, from head to toe. 

“Marnie,” he purred. 

His hands stroked down her belly. She pushed him to one side, over on his back on the bed. Leaned over him. “Two can play at that game,” she whispered. “It’s my turn now.” She straddled him, nibbled his throat, enjoying the low, growling noise he made. Traced her fingers down the shape of the phoenix.

“Rebirth in fire,” he whispered. “I got it – after the mines.”

“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.” He shivered beneath her fingers, shuddered and gasped when she closed her lips around the head of his cock. Writhed, when she gently ran her teeth along its length.

“Yoba,” he whispered. Gasped, his buttocks and stomach clenching when she took as much of his cock in her mouth as she could, tongue darting around the sensitive base of the head. “Stop,” he whispered, sounding almost strained. “I’m an old man, I’m not sure I can manage a repeat performance tonight; and I want to bury myself in you.” 

She laughed, drew away, and lay her head beside him, staring into his eyes. “You’re not that old.” Kissed him below the ear. He was missing a chunk of his earlobe, she noticed. “You’re not even fifty.”

He chuckled, rolled over, and she heard a crinkle of foil. Put her hand on his. “I’m forty-six, if I get pregnant, it’ll be a bloody miracle. Unless...?”

“I’m clean,” he whispered, dropping the still wrapped condom to the floor. Laughed low and sexy in her ear, teasingly, “you know, this is Stardew Valley – it’s a little bit magical. And miracles do happen.”

Then, with a low, feral growl, he pinned her to the bed, trapped her firmly between his thighs. Planted another kiss or two on her lips, her throat, the dip of her cleavage. “Has anyone told you how beautiful you are,” he whispered.

“Recently? Only you,” she returned. “At least three times tonight.”

He laughed throatily. His hand between her thighs again, and she opened her legs so he could kneel between them, crouch down and taste her again. “Now, where were we?”

Fingers joined tongue, and he teased her until another orgasm shuddered through her body. She was so hypersensitive, even just clenching her muscles made her come.

He eased himself inside her, gently at first. She gasped and writhed at the silken delight of him. He thrust harder, deeper, and her fingers twisted into claws. Her gasps matched with his, and she luxuriated at the feel of him. At the way he filled her with his heat and set her nerves afire. They climaxed together: he with a low growling moan, she with a breathless sigh. Then collapsed, wrapped in each others’ arms, gazing into each others’ eyes. His cock, soft and spent, still rested inside her. He kissed her on the nose, whispered, “I love you. You’re all I ever wanted.” 

She was breathless, exhausted. Her heart felt so full that it might burst from her chest. “I only wish it hadn’t taken me so long to figure ‘us’ out.” She pressed her lips against his ear, nibbled lightly on the lobe, then breathed, “I love you, Marlon Werner.”


	46. A Twist in the Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late night liaision, and a blast from the past...

30th May 2019

Laughter from the lounge. The kids – well, young folk – were doing their best to transform a night of sorrow into one of celebration and remembrance. It cheered Marnie to see Abigail and Shane talking again, bringing Mona back to life – for themselves and for Jasmine. 

She cradled her phone, studied the text message she’d received earlier that day. Marlon must’ve finally found his phone:

Meet me at the Community Center at midnight tonight. There’s something I have to show you. You will not regret it. I’ve missed you. Love ... M xo.

The last two weeks had been wonderful (“Well, someone’s happy,” Shane had observed, when he came home mid-Saturday. “About damn time.”). They’d stolen every moment together that they could – and made love a lot. An almost shameful amount, as though they both wanted to make up for those lost thirty years. (“People in their forties getting it on.” Abigail had rolled her eyes and feigned mortification. “So disgusting.”)

Tonight, however, they’d agreed that Marnie needed to stay with the ‘kids’. Or at least, in the same building, because what gathering of twenty-somethings really wanted an ‘old person’ hanging around?

So, what had happened? What had he found in the Community Center?

Marnie stepped into the lounge.

“They’re putting Jasmine to bed,” Abigail informed her, and offered her a piece of pizza. She accepted, leaned against the couch to eat it. Sam had rolled his slice into a tube, and was attempting to jam the entire thing in his mouth. Possibly in some ill-considered attempt to impress Penny. 

“Everything going okay?”

“I wanna watch the next movie, but Sam says I’ve gotta go to bed,” Vincent whined.

“Sorry kiddo. It’s late. We can watch it another day, right?”

Vincent groaned and rolled his eyes.

“I should head home too,” Penny said shyly. “Would you like me to take him, Sam?”

Sam shoved the last of the crust into his mouth. “Itsh okay.” He chewed, swallowed. “I think we’re, like, mostly surplus to requirements.”

As if on cue, Shane and Isla walked back into the room, cheeks flushed, fingers entwined.

“Oh, pizza!” Shane fired a grin at Emily, who’d delivered the cartons. “Extra spicy?”

The blue-haired lass grinned, gestured at an unopened box. “’Specially for you.”

“None of us dare touch it,” Abigail added. “It’s like eating fire.”

Shane scooped up the box and faked a massive yawn. “Well,” he said. “I’m totally shattered. Time to get some sleep.” He cast a sidelong glance at Isla, coupled it with his crooked grin.

“Sleep,” Abigail teased. “Yes, because that’s exactly what you’ll be doing. Well, since my services as chaperone are no longer required, I suppose I should head home too. After all – some of us have to get up early in the morning. Chickens to feed and so forth.”

“Home,” Isla grumbled good-naturedly, loading slices of pizza onto a plate. “You mean, my home.” 

“You’re welcome to stay here,” Marnie interjected, but Abigail dismissed the offer with a wave.

“Hey, if Isla’s staying here with tall, dark and delightfully scruffy, means I get the bed to myself.”

“Watch out for the monsters,” Isla cautioned. 

Abigail gave her a thumbs up, then reclaimed her sheathed sword from the umbrella stand. “Be good,” she said. “But not too good.” 

*

The others filtered out soon afterward and, with Isla and Shane disappearing into his room (door closed, music on, no doubt sleep was not high on their priority list), Marnie found herself alone.

She collected up the leftover pizzas – you’d think, in their mid-twenties that perhaps they’d have learned the basics of house-keeping, but apparently not – and stowed them in the fridge for tomorrow. Sat down at the table and contemplated the text message again.

Her pulse raced with anticipation, and raw need clawed at her, an ache in her loins. Seriously Marnie, she goaded herself. You’re worse than a freaking teenager. 

Was this what a mid-life crisis felt like?

She checked in on Jasmine, smiled down at the girl. Her face restful. Magnus curled up against her back, the fake Magnus wrapped in her arms.

“Sleep well, petal.” Marnie pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. “Dream of things you love.”

Jasmine’s lips twitched into a smile.

*

The village was eerie and silent after night fall. Aside from the occasional rustle in the bushes of a fleeing rabbit or the distant hoot of an owl, it was as though the entire world were asleep. The moon, a mere sliver of silver against the tapestry of stars. 

She was passing the saloon when she caught a flicker of motion from the corner of her eye, and recognized the local ‘wildman’. “Linus? Good evening.” 

He startled at the sight of her, and clutched his large paper bag to his chest. “Hello Marnie,” he said, in his quiet, polite voice. Surprisingly refined, given that his clothes had been patched together from scraps of fabric and he hadn’t had a haircut in... possibly ever? “I can smell summer in the air, ‘tis a fine evening for a walk.”

“It is,” she agreed. Then added, because she could see the curiosity in his eyes but knew he’d never ask, “I’m meeting someone at the Community Center. If you’re headed in that direction?”

“I would be delighted for the company,” he replied, a twinkle in his eye.

They walked together for a time. Marnie, her belly a-flutter with butterflies of nervous excitement, Linus quiet and thoughtful.

“What do you think of the mayor?” she asked as they walked past the fountain. Even it was starting to look tarnished.

Linus regarded her, his gaze serious. “It is not my place to criticize,” he said, “and Mayor Lewis has been more than generous in allowing me to settle here, but I do feel somewhat filled with regret that he permitted that Joja abomination to move in. And I fear for the future, should the mines once more be opened to coal exploration. We must learn to live in harmony with our surrounds, rather than seek to exploit and destroy.”

Who had he been before the valley? Marnie wondered, not for the first time. A philosopher? A scholar? Or, as Jasmine had decided, a runaway prince from a far-off kingdom? He’d moved in just over a year ago, and had, on occasion, helped Marnie with the animals. He would accept nothing more than a small basket of eggs, and a bottle of milk in payment, claiming, “A simple life leads to simple needs.” 

The beard and his silver-white hair gave the impression that he was older, but his eyes were young; he could be aged anywhere between forty and seventy. 

“I agree,” she said. Then added, only half jokingly, “Ever considered running for mayor?”

His furry eyebrows crept together into a puzzled frown. “Why ever would I care to do that?”

*

The ruins of the Community Center loomed before them. Not a very pleasant place for a rendezvous, and it struck her again how odd it was that Marlon would ask her to meet him here. Then again, perhaps he’d uncovered something.

The clock had stopped at twenty-six minutes past midnight – when it had been struck by lightning. Ivy suffocated the peeling painted boards and the window shutters hung from their hinges, frames filled with broken glass. 

But the boards barricading the door had been removed, and a single fairy rose lay on the doorstep.

“Thank you for accompanying me,” she said to Linus. He gave her a little bow, and doffed an imaginary cap.

“It is always pleasing to be accepted for whom I am,” he said. “Until we meet again, fare thee well, Ms Marnie.”

She made her way up to the front steps and picked up the fairy rose. Muttered a curse, as a thorn drove itself into her finger. “Well, they say, every rose,” she muttered. The song had been included on the mix-tape. Coincidence?

The time on her phone read 11:52. A few minutes early. She read the message again.

Why did something feel off?

The door creaked open with the touch of her hand, and she caught a glimpse of flickering lights – candles? The air smelt heady with the warm, cloying spice of incense.

Floorboards creaked and groaned beneath her feet, the feeble light from her phone revealing a ruined mess. Gaping holes in the floor, through which weeds had crept. A broken fish tank rested in one corner, and Marnie could not help but wonder what had become of the poor fish. The candles formed a circle on the floor between the fireplace and the doorway. She stepped closer, and felt a cold chill grip her heart.

They weren’t set out on a circle, but at the five points of a pentagram.

The door clicked shut behind her, and she felt a sharp bolt of panic.

“Hello,” a feminine voice, lilting and almost ephemeral, but with a venomous edge. “So we meet again.”

“Liliana?” 

“Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.” The woman smiled. Her hair no longer hung to her waist, now cut into a fashionable style, and she was clad in corporate wear: a blue blazer over a white blouse and dress pants. Her eyes were focused and sharp.

Marnie held the woman’s gaze. “What are you doing here? Where’s Marlon?” 

A lazy smile parted Liliana’s green-painted lips. Indeed, it might have just been the candlelight, but even her skin had a greenish tinge. “I’m afraid your gorgeous warrior couldn’t make it,” she said. “It appears that the slime population has attained epidemic proportion. And tonight, well, it is time for our plans to finally bear fruit. Time to lay down the groundwork for our most ambitious merger yet.” She walked across the room, towards the hearth. Marnie took the opportunity to retreat to the door. Jiggled the handle. Locked. “Tisk tisk.” Liliana twitched her index finger as though scolding a naughty child. “No leaving before the party’s started. By the Void,” she said, “you are so very, very gullible. How sweet – so enamored by your warrior that you fell so easily into our trap.” Her eyes flicked to the side, and she called to someone in another room, “I told you it wasn’t too obvious.” Footsteps creaking on the floor, and a familiar figure appeared.

“Lewis,” Marnie gasped.

The Mayor stepped to Liliana’s side. “And here I thought she would be smarter than that.” A cell phone rested in the palm of his hand. Marlon’s phone. He sounded regretful, almost sad.

Maybe Marnie could work with that. “What are you doing here?” she asked, allowing the fear to show in her voice.

He refused to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said, and sounded almost genuine. “But... Pelican Town is fading. This was... my only choice.”

Marnie’s hand fumbled in her pocket, flicked a few switches on the phone. 

“Oh Lewis,” she cried in despair. “What have you done?” 

Liliana pushed him aside and stalked forward. “He chose the winning side,” she said.

There was something familiar about the color of her jacket, that exact shade of blue. “You’re with JojaCorp,” she said.

“And you’re not as stupid as you look,” Liliana replied, her mouth twisted into a cruel smile. She reached into her pocket and presented Marnie with a small white card.

Lily-Ann Jenkins  
~ Acquisitions Manager ~  
JojaCorp  
“Join us, thrive”

“It’s good to see you again,” she added. “I always knew there was something special about you.”

“There’s nothing special about me,” Marnie protested. There had to be another way out of the building, right? Surely she could find a window, escape that way? Or find something that could be used as a weapon? She inched along the wall. Slowly Marn, slowly.

Lily raised her perfectly manicured eyebrows. “Is there not?” She turned her emerald gaze upon Lewis. “Have you delivered a fake, Lewis Barclay?”

Lewis shook his head and took a step back. His expression was that of a dog about to be beaten. “No,” he whispered. “It’s her. She just doesn’t know it. She’s definitely the keystone.”

“I guess we shall see.” Lily removed an item from the mantelpiece. An inkwell. Smiled, as she saw recognition in Marnie’s eyes.

“Yes, my dear. This is Rasmodius’s – my poor, deluded, half-mad ex-husband’s – magic inkwell. Do you know what the ink contains?”

Marnie shook her head. Keep them talking. She’d seen enough movies, read enough books; the longer they talked, the more chance she had of finding a way out. 

Or of being rescued. By whom Marnie, whom? Linus?

At least someone knew where she was. 

“What?” she asked.

Liliana licked her lips. “Ink,” she said. She swirled it gently in her hand, then passed it to Lewis. “And blood. Wizard blood. Warrior blood. Tonight, we sign the contract, and bring the darkness. We just need a little extra ingredient to seal the deal.” Her teeth gleamed in the candlelight. “The keystone. You.”

She lunged. The silver of a blade flashed in the gutting candlelight, Marnie barely threw up her arm in time in a vague attempt to protect herself. Pain bit, sharp and cold. She grabbed Liliana’s wrist, tried to pry the knife from her fingers. Heard her phone clatter to the floor. Prayed it hadn’t broken.

“Help me Lewis,” Marnie cried, fear adding desperation to her plea. “Please. Did our... love... mean nothing to you?” 

“Love.” Lewis snorted. “You cast me aside fast enough.”

His arms closed around her, wrapped her in a bear hug and dragged her away from Liliana. She struggled, but feebly, then fell faint in his arms. The dead-weight of her sent him stumbling, almost dragged him down with her.

Her fingers closed on the phone, and she slipped it into her pocket. “You never cared for me at all, did you?” she whimpered, clutching at his knees. “I was just... just a...”

“You’re pathetic,” he growled. “A fat, useless whore past her prime.” His gaze flicked to Liliana, tensed like an predator about to strike. “Please, just do it. Let’s get this over and done with. Just take what you need and let her go.”

“Oh, we cannot permit that.” Liliana licked her lips. “The Void will love the taste of her.”

Now Marnie. She had brought one leg up, under her in preparation – now she lunged. Her head impacted, hard, with Lewis’s groin, and he emitted a gratifyingly gasped squeak and folded. Her arms closed around his waist; she tackled him to the creaking floorboards. 

“Bitch,” he whimper-sobbed.

“Yes,” she replied. He’d forgotten who she was: a rancher and a vet’s assistant. Marnie had handled more than a few unruly beasts in her time (including several of the more ‘challenging’ foster children). They grappled, jabbing elbows, clawing fingers – a brutal parody of their tryst in the bushes.

“Fuck you,” she growled, and she thrust him towards the gaping hole in the floor, bracing herself against the floor just in time. Lewis wasn’t so nimble; his fingers scrabbled for purchase, found none, nails scraped across the boards. A muffled grunt of pain as he struck the floor of the basement below. And Marnie heard, in the depths, a terrible squishing, squelching...

She rolled away from the hole, and Liliana pounced. The blade slashed again, this time catching the corner of Marnie’s coat. “What did I ever do to you?” Marnie protested. There was nothing of the fey ethereal in Liliana, and the practical business woman was gone too – now she was predatory, feral. The candles behind her flared brighter.

“Who said you had to do anything? We don’t care about you, Harmony Andrews. We care about your blood.” She lunged. The blade slashed a streak of silver pain across Marnie’s cheek. “And we only need a drop!” Liliana crowed, held the blade aloft.

Then she shoved Marnie, hard, towards the hole.

The rancher teetered on the edge for a moment. Her arms flailed to keep her balance. She bent her knees and jumped into the darkness.

Better to jump than to fall.

Pain rebounded up through her legs. The ground yielded, soft and spongy beneath her. Clay, covered in a thick layer of vines that crept up the walls, and out through the shattered floorboards. A basement? She blinked in the darkness, eyes taking a moment to adjust. Took a step, and winced against the pain in her ankles.

I’m getting old, she thought. Body wearing out. When she was younger, she’d thought nothing of jumping out of the hayloft, and into a pile of hay below – or, in one memorable (and most regrettable) incident – manure. A pale halo of light above – she’d dropped maybe eight, ten feet? Too high to haul herself out without assistance.

But the basement wasn’t empty. Scattered amongst the vines lay chests, and broken boxes, barrels. With some effort, she heaved one upright – thank goodness they were empty – and pushed one of the crates against it. Was about to climb up on it, when she heard a groan from the corner. 

A figure curled around his pain. 

“Lewis.” She limped to his side. He might have betrayed her, and tried to hurt her, but she could hardly leave him here broken and in pain. “Are you... okay?” A stupid question, because he clearly wasn’t.

“My hip,” he groaned. “I think I broke it. Please... can you help me.”

She took her phone out of her pocket, was relieved to see it was still running, one bar of signal flicking in and out. She cradled it in her hand and crouched beside him. “Why should I?” she asked. “You threatened my best friend, and increased my taxes when I refused to shag you anymore.”

“I'm sorry,” he said. “Please. I just... didn’t want to lose you. I couldn’t think of any other way to... to keep you.”

Bullshit, she thought. He’s trying to charm you. “So you resorted to bribery and... blackmail?” Say it, admit it. “Yes,” his voice a hoarse whisper, but she was close enough to capture it. “She needed what you had... She talked me into it. I didn't want to. Okay? And I’m sorry I tried to blackmail you. But what does it matter? Please, just help me get out of here. I’ll do anything. Please. They’re coming.”

“Who’s coming?” A wet, squelching sound, the vines rustled.

“Them,” he whispered.

These slimes were nothing like the tiny, cute ones on display at the fair. These were massive, gelatinous, and ridiculous, but somehow that made them even more terrifying.

“Anything?” 

“Yes. Help me, damn you!”

The green slime squelched closer. Their acid burns, Marnie remembered. She helped Lewis to his feet. He managed to stand upright, leaning heavily on her. How was she supposed to help him? “Can you walk?”

He managed, a sort of pained shuffle, towards her barrel.

One of the slimes turned towards them, black coals like burning eyes. It expanded, contracted, moved.

Came closer, closer. 

She interlocked her fingers together and lowered them to knee height. “Get up,” she instructed Lewis.

“I can’t.” Pain made his voice wobble.

“Then I’ll leave you here,” Marnie said. Wasn’t sure if she meant it or not.

He rested one hand – and most of his weight – on her shoulder, then placed his foot on her braced hands. She heaved him up. He managed – somehow – to scrabble onto the barrel, groaning in pain. “Climb,” she commanded him.

The nearest slime seemed to be shrinking in on itself, shudders passed through its gelatinous form. What could she use as a weapon? Her eyes alighted on a splintered board – one of the floorboards. She hefted it.

“Climb!” She barked the command at Lewis.

The slime bounced towards her. She thrust the board up, a crude shield. The force of impact sent her staggering back a step; droplets of jelly burned against her skin. Cast a quick glance at the barrel. Lewis had gone, levering himself up and out. She thrust the board away from her, twisted away and scrambled up: crate, barrel... reached up, fingers closed on the splintered floorboards, just as a slime sprang, and knocked the barrel out from beneath her feet. Her feet flailed, found purchase in the vines. Arms screaming, she dragged herself up and back onto the floor of the community center.

Thank Yoba for manual labor.

Lewis had collapsed on the floor, and she stood and stepped around him. Liliana crouched beside the pentagram, her back to the hole. Quill pen in one hand, she traced runes along the floorboards. The flames flickered higher, flames dancing. Where the shadows fell, something was growing. A figure made of shadows and darkness.

“Venit ex umbra animae viventis,” Liliana whispered. “Inducet noctem.”

Marnie cast her eyes about for a weapon – anything. Alighted on the knife, forgotten on the ground.

Would she?

Could she?

She crept across the floor towards it. Slowly. Slowly.

Fingers closed around the hilt. Closer, closer.

Liliana turned when she was two steps away. Surprise in her green eyes, then her lips drew back into a malevolent grin.

“Just in time for the party,” she said.

A long, low rumble, a lightning jolt of adrenaline.

The ground shuddered, as though something terrible were awakening.

Marnie lunged.

Not with the knife, but with her body, forcing Lilith back, into the pentagram, into the Void specter.

Lilith’s scream pierced the air. A scream of pure, unadulterated terror. The candles flashed bright purple and white.

Behind her, the door exploded inwards.

“Marnie! Thank Yoba!” Marlon was beside her in a heartbeat. But no time to marvel at his presence, because a vortex of shadowy tentacles twisted around Lilith, as though she were being consumed by darkness. The warrior drew his twin blades, shouted, “Extinguish the candles! Erase the runes!” and sprang into the pentagram.

Her heart leaped into her throat. “Marlon,” she whispered. His swords slashed at the shadows, and he dodged and ducked and weaved around the slashing tentacles.

“Extinguish the candles,” she whispered. Kicked them over, stomped them into piles of ash and wax. “Erase the runes.” The inkwell had fallen over, spilling its dark black ichor. She dipped her hands in it, spread it across the floor, finger-painting in blood and ink across the strange writing. A flicker of color in her peripheral vision. A high-pitched, musical chirping.

Light rose up, to surround the pentagram in an orb of rainbows. The shadows shrunk back, dissipated and evaporated. Marlon fell to his knees, let the swords sink to his side. Of Liliana, there was no trace.

Marnie sprang into the dome without a second thought, and dropped to her knees in front of him. “Marlon?” she whispered. “My love?”

His swords clattered to the floor, then his hands were on her shoulders, his lips tasting hers. “Oh Marnie,” he whispered into the kiss. “Are you alright? Did they... hurt you. Fuck... I couldn’t bear it.”

“I’m fine,” she returned. Kissed the tears from his cheeks. Traced his face with her hands. He wasn’t wearing the eye-patch, and his eyes were bright with fear and love. She kissed him again, and again. “You came for me.”

“Always,” he rumbled. “I wish I’d been faster, but,” he gestured at the room, “you seemed to have things mostly under control.” His laugh vibrated against her cheek. “Linus found me. He was worried. He’s an interesting fellow, that man.” He kissed her again, as though to reassure himself that she was real. 

“Lewis is here.” Marnie gestured at the mayor. He was still lying on the floor, but she could see his eyes upon them. “He was conspiring with her. With Liliana. She’s with JojaCorp. Shit, I think she was duping Rasmodius all that time. He sold me out.” She met his gaze. “I recorded it, I think. A confession, of sorts. Might have enough evidence to get him removed as Mayor. Plus he owes me a favor. Not that I intend to use that against him, cos then I’d be no better than he is – but I did kinda saved his life.” 

Marlon rose his eyebrows. “Has anyone ever told you you’re amazing?”

A warm glow of pleasure. “So are you,” she returned. “Anyhow, they were trying to... create an allegiance with the Void.”

“Bring darkness to paradise,” he whispered. “When I came in, the stars were... disappearing... Just, winking out, like they were being devoured by shadow.” He shivered against her. “Something else happened tonight too, something in Darkhaven...”

“Shit. Thank Yoba, Isla and Shane are at the Ranch.” But what about Abigail? Gods, I hope she's okay.

He drew her close, she rested her head against his chest, lulled by the solid tempo of his heart. “More monsters to clean up tomorrow.” He gave her a small smile. “You do realize we’ve got an audience?”

She became aware, again, of the chirping. Squinted out through the rainbow dome that encased them, and saw little brightly-colored shapes. But no matter how hard she blinked, she couldn’t bring them into clarity.

“What are they?” she asked.

“Junimo,” he said, following her gaze. His fingers traced the graze on her cheek, and he pressed a kiss gently against it. “The forest spirits. Only those with the Valley in their blood can see them. Can you? Can you see them now?”

“Sort of,” she whispered. “Not really. They’re... it’s like they’re out of focus. Like I’m seeing them on behalf of someone else. Could it be... because we’re now... us?”

“Maybe,” he said wonderingly. But there was something else, a sort of raw desperate hope in his voice, that sent an anticipatory shiver down her spine. He kissed her on the forehead. “We’ll see.”


	47. Little Miracles

16 July 2019

Marnie stared at the two lines in disbelief. “There must be some mistake,” she said. 

Doctor Harvey regarded her solemnly. “We will do further tests,” he said. “But I assure you, the error rate is exceedingly low.”

“Shit,” she muttered, filled with at once both delight and nauseating panic. She’d come in because she’d been feeling increasingly fatigued, a little light-headed and suffering roiling nausea. That, paired with two missed periods, had made her wonder if she were approaching menopause. She’d laughed when the doctor had suggested she take a pregnancy test first.

She wasn’t laughing now.

“So, assuming that it’s right, and there’s no mistake. What are its chances?”

Harvey adjusted his glasses and looked a little uncomfortable. “I’m not going to gild the truth,” he said. “The odds are stacked against him, or her – and, there’s a not insignificant risk to you as well.”

Her hand strayed to her belly, lingering on the tiny life that, somehow, had managed to take hold. “What can I do to help it?”

*

She walked home in a daze, unable to quite comprehend the existence of this tiny miracle. Needed to talk to someone – but the risk was so high, and they’d been together such a short time. She didn’t want to put that burden on someone else.

You need to tell him, her mind insisted. But, what if it was like Benjamin all over again? She’d been younger then, yet still her body had rejected the life growing inside it. She couldn’t bear seeing the happiness on Marlon’s face, only to have it shattered later, when the inevitable happened.

She’d almost lost Rasmus. She couldn’t lose Marlon as well.

“How was your appointment?” Shane greeted her when he sauntered in the door. Every time she saw him, she felt a leap of pride. He’d come so far, a spring in his stride, a gleam in his eye. 

Marnie looked up guiltily. She’d been searching up ‘pregnant after 45’ on her phone, and regretting every minute of it. From miscarriage to gestational diabetes to an extremely high risk of birth defects (could you call them ‘defects’ nowadays? Differences, perhaps. Birth differences). She calculated the odds of this tiny mass of cells making it into a fully-fledged actual healthy baby with an actual healthy mother would require a miracle.

“Unexpected,” she said. Her confused misery must have shown on her face, because Shane drew out the chair and sat down opposite her. 

“So, you’re pregnant then?” he said, without preamble. Marnie almost dropped her phone.

“How did you know?”

“I live here, remember?” he said. “You had the constitution of a ...” – he searched for a metaphor, then gave up – “well, you never used to get sick, yet you’ve been throwing up in the mornings, and moody as. Plus you almost passed out at the Luau.”

“I’m not moody! Besides, when are you even here in the mornings? You’re practically living at Darkhaven.”

“Case in point.” He smirked. “And, well, you and your leather pirate are all over each other like a couple of horny teenagers. Frankly Auntie, it’s a little nauseating.” His eyes shone in teasing delight.

“Oh, like you can talk.” Marnie laughed. “And when the hell did you become an expert? Wait, Isla’s not pregnant, is she?” 

Shane grinned at her. “Yoba no. Some of us remember to take precautions, Auntie. But Isla has that whole heightened senses thing going on.”

“She knew?”

He shrugged and smiled. “She suspected, but wasn’t sure – and didn’t think you’d believe her. She seems to think you’re all super-practical and not even slightly prone to superstition or believing in magic.” Shane’s laughter was a delight. “I have no idea where she got that idea from.” He reached over and rested his hand on hers. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy – isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? A child of your own?” He faltered. “Wait, have you told Marlon? Did he not take it well? Shit, I’d have thought he’d be overjoyed. Or is it just because you’re old?”

Marnie snorted. “Thanks for that. And no, I haven’t told anyone,” she said. “I doubt it’ll be staying around for long anyway.” She set the phone down and pushed it towards him. Shane glanced at the grim facts and closed the screen. “Marnie. Ignore that. The father’s a freaking warrior, right?” He hesitated for a moment. “Auntie, I hate to ask this but... it is his, right? Not...” He waved his hand, reluctant to let Lewis’s name pass his lips.

Marnie couldn’t blame him. She choked back a sob at the thought. “Definitely.” Thankfully she’d endured her period shortly after the Flower Dance.

“Thank Yoba.” He shuddered. “Well, the father’s a warrior and you, well, you’re... you.”

“Thanks,” she said wryly. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

He stood up and patted her on the shoulder. “You’re one of the strongest and most big-hearted people I know. Surely that counts for something. What does the doctor say?”

“Pretty sure that being a good person doesn’t help improve fetal survival rate,” she replied. “But thanks for the support. And Harvey’s stoked. Says I’m one of the oldest expectant mothers he’s treated – and the first to get there naturally. It’s like I’m, I dunno, a unicorn or something.”

Shane sputtered. “A unicorn?”

She nodded. “Something special and rare. Anyhow, he’s given me a ton of supplements, prescribed a dietary plan – and, there’s a group that meet-up in Zuzu, specifically for older expectant mothers.” She barked a hollow laugh. “Maybe I’ll meet a celebrity or two. I hear having kids later in life is all the rage.”

“You’ll be fine,” Shane repeated. “And so will...” he paused, picked up her phone, and typed in a few things. “How many weeks does the doc think you are?”

“Between eight and ten,” she said. “Probably closer to the first.”

“Really? That long. Shit. That’s gotta be good, right?” He spun the phone around. “Right, so this is what the baby looks like at the moment. And it’s somewhere between the size of a raspberry and a strawberry.”

She took the phone off him and flicked through the site. “Strange obsession with comparing fetus to fruit,” she observed. “Anyway, I’ve been booked in for an ultrasound next week, to see if everything’s proceeding as planned. Well, not planned. You know what I mean.” She let her head sink onto her crossed arms. There was too much to deal with right now, and far too much to put on the poor lad. Hell, he was still fighting his own demons. “Shit,” she whispered. “I’m nearly forty-seven years old. How am I supposed to cope with a newborn baby?” 

“Same way you deal with everything else,” Shane replied. “With courage, determination, and compassion. Besides, you’re hardly alone. They do say it takes a village...” 

He plucked her phone from her fingers, pressed a few buttons and handed it back to her with Marlon’s phone number on the screen. “Call him. Look, whether little... raspberry... manages to make it or not, the father needs to know. And you need him by your side. Besides, next week you’re going to see the little berry-fruit, and don’t you think he deserves that chance too?”

He was right, of course. When did he get so wise?

* 

“I can’t believe it,” Marlon rumbled beside Marnie’s ear, his hand clasping hers, thumb gently stroking the back of her hand. “He’s beautiful.”

She allowed herself a small smile.

The nurse gave a small cough. “That’s the umbilical cord, sir,” she said. “We won’t be able to tell the gender until at least sixteen weeks.”

“I am aware of that,” he said, attempting to melt her with his steely gaze, but failed because he was grinning too broadly. “But still, it is my feeling that he is a boy.”

Marnie couldn’t care less about the gender. Was determined to refer to the baby as ‘it’ until it was born (or at least past twenty-four weeks) – in the theory that might stop her getting too attached. But it was impossible to not see this tiny, alien creature that was growing inside her, and not feel some affection for it – for its sheer tenacity in finding existence, if nothing else. “It looks like a baby bird. Is it... okay? Healthy, I mean?”

“Yes,” she said. “In that the fetus is developing as expected. Would you like to hear...” – the nurse glanced at Marlon – “his heartbeat?”

Marlon clutched Marnie’s hand. “Please,” he said, voice husky with affection that bordered on desperation.

Please stay with us, little guy, Marnie thought fiercely. There’s so much love, waiting here for you.

“Now,” – the nurse rolled the device over Marnie’s gelled belly – “don’t be too alarmed if we can’t hear anything. It’s still earl–” she fell silent, as the sound came over the device, half buried in static. A fairly rapid, pulsating beat not unlike a horse galloping in the distance. 

The sound filled Marnie with hope. “He’s our fighter,” she whispered.

Marlon leaned down, and kissed the tears from her cheeks. “Did you really expect anything less?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to all of you who stuck with me through Marnie's life story!  
> I hope you found the conclusion satisfactory (and yes, I *may* have written a short story following on, let's say, approximately 6 months after this story ends and I shall upload it at some point).
> 
> I have finished the next story, "Reborn" but will likely take a break before uploading it. If you are interested, I've now turned my attention now towards creating mods for the actual game, and am currently working on an Immersive Marnie mod, designed to develop her character further through dialogue and heart scenes (2,4,5,8,10 hearts respectively) as well as making adjustments to Jas and Lewis to reflect the influence of their lives upon each another (I won't be touching Shane's dialogue, as there is already a very fine Immersive Shane mod). It will not follow this story particularly, and my lore is unlikely to be included in depth, but you will notice a few points of inspiration. If you're interested, make a comment here and I'll let you know when it goes live. I'm testing and refining it atm.


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